Of Myths and Men, Volume 1
by Nadya-child
Summary: What happens when mutants and Immortals find out about each other and enemies begin to enroach on both worlds? Will they destroy each other because of one's past sins or will they put aside their differences to protect an innocent?
1. Default Chapter

_This is a "Highlander: The Series" and "X-men" crossover project that my friend (_Phoenixdescending_) and I have been working on and is currently in two volumes. This is the first one and it's complete; the second one isn't done yet so...  
  
Note: this story operates on the idea that it really was Methos (from "Highlander") that we saw in "X2: X-men United", posing as Sgt. Lyman, and includes an explanation as to why he would be involved with such a man as William Stryker. Comments are welcome and appreciated.  
  
One of the characters in this story--Talia--is the beautiful creation of _Phoenixdescending_ and I lay no claim to her. If you want to know more about her history, her story is posted under Phoenixdescending's pen-name, entitled "Dum Spiro Spero". Be sure to leave your comments, as they are appreciated.  
  
_DISCLAIMER: The characters of "Highlander" (excepting Nadya Jamesson) do not belong to me, neither do the characters of "X-men". The character of Talia belongs to Pheonixdescending and is her sole creation and property.  
  
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**Chapter 1**  
  
_Welcome, Professor!_  
  
Charles Xavier pushed the forward button on his wheelchair and whirred quietly into a very 'large round room'. Cerebro—the device with which he could find any mutant alive. Cerebro, the symbol of his life's work: to help mutants realize and control their abilities and become useful and valued citizens of society.  
  
"Shall I join you, Professor?" Ororo Monroe, a.k.a. Storm, stood at the still-open doors of Cerebro.  
  
Professor Xavier sighed. Normally, it would be Jean Grey who asked that question but no more. She had disappeared a year ago at Akalai Lake, saving her friends. Jean had been his own protégé, a telepathic/telekinetic like him; he had worked with her for many years, teaching her to realize and harness her powers. And now she was gone. A sacrifice to save their lives.  
  
"Yes, Storm. Please come in."  
  
The slender, white-tressed woman entered Cerebro and the steel doors shut fast behind her. She strode up to stand behind the professor's chair as he lifted the helmet onto his head and the room grew dark.  
  
"Just...don't move."  
  
Suddenly, the room was full of white lights, outlines of nations, countries, and continents. Then, amidst those twinkling lights came flashes of red, pinpricks of humanity. Mutants.  
  
Storm looked around in wonder; Cerebro's capabilities never failed to amaze her.  
  
The professor concentrated deeply, scanning these mutants and looking for ones in need of his assistance, whose abilities were just beginning to show and needed harnessing.  
  
Suddenly, it was as though someone had ripped Cerebro apart! A fork like lightening scored through the lights, emanating from one particular place...in Europe. Or at least where Europe had been 5 seconds ago. The professor screamed in pain and ripped the helmet from his head! Storm rushed forward to help him as he almost fell out of his chair.  
  
"Professor!" She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back up into the chair. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Something...happened. I don't know what. Some sort of energy spike somewhere," Professor Xavier was panting. It has given him quite a shock.  
  
"But what could be powerful enough to disrupt Cerebro?"  
  
"I...don't know…but it's somewhere…in Paris."  
  
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In an alley off the Champs Elysees, Methos used his sword as a crutch and pushed himself up as light poles and power wires sparked all around him.  
  
_'This gets harder and harder all the time; I am definitely too old for this!'_  
  
Methos stuck the Ivanhoe inside his coat and staggered out of the alley, out the back way. There was no way he was stepping out onto the Champs Elysees like this.  
  
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"Really Professor, you shouldn't be up and about for a while...at least not until we are sure there is no extensive damage." Storm said as the professor sat up on the medical table and moved to return himself to his wheelchair.  
  
"I am fine, Ororo, truly." But he mover slower than usual, just in case. Once he was seated he maneuvered around to face the trio of concerned faces.  
  
Well, two out of three.  
  
Logan, a.k.a. Wolverine, was no doubt as concerned as the others; he just didn't show it from his relaxed position near the door.  
  
Scott, a.k.a. Cyclops, stood behind Storm with brow furrowed over the red quartz sunglasses he wore, no doubt still concerned about losing another person he cared about.  
  
The professor tried to assure them once more. "I have been through worse. This...whatever it was...was more of a shock. My headache is almost gone."  
  
"What was it, Professor?" Scott asked, relaxing his stance some.  
  
"Truly...I haven't the faintest idea," the professor said then after a moment. "I have never felt anything like that before. Ever." Xavier placed his hands in front of him fingertips forming a bridge upon which he rested his lips, pondering the event.  
  
"Was it a mutant?" Logan asked from across the room.  
  
"I cannot be sure...I was trying to focus on the mutant population but I had not singled them out yet...but I find it hard to believe that any human could have been responsible for something of that..."  
  
"Magnitude," Storm finished, leaning back in the chair. Her face was tense and her eyes still watched the Professor closely in case he should have any reactions to whatever happened.  
  
"Could it have been something else? An explosion?" Logan offered again.  
  
Xavier shook his head. "Cerebro doesn't work that way. She can only monitor living beings...humans, mutants...perhaps even animals, though I have never tried that. An explosion would not show up like that."  
  
"Besides, the new networks would be buzzing if anything big enough to disrupt Cerebro had happened; it has to be a mutant." Scott finished, looking at Logan.  
  
The two men, though nowhere near common ground, had become less blatantly competitive since Jean had disappeared. They were both suffering the loss and, perhaps out of respect for her, they tried to keep their personalities in check...for the moment.  
  
Logan acknowledged this and said nothing.  
  
"You said it came from Paris?" Storm said.  
  
The Professor nodded. "I am not sure where. I could search but Cerebro will take time to repair and to tell the truth if we wait too long we may lose the trail of.... whatever this was."  
  
"So we go to Paris...and search for what? It is a big city, Professor. Where would we start?" Scott asked, spreading his hands out before him.  
  
"Well, the logical place would be the police department…if something of that magnitude," Xavior used Storm's proffered word, "…happened, it should have drawn some attention."  
  
Scott nodded.  
  
"Storm and Logan will go with you."  
  
"What about us?" came the drolling Southern voice behind where Logan stood. He then turned to look out the door at the two younger faces.  
  
"It's called school," Logan said dryly to Rogue and Bobby.  
  
Behind, and slightly above, them almost sheepishly stood Colossus; he also stuck his head into the room.  
  
"Oh, lahk we'll have it with all the teachers gawn." Rogue pressed the issue and it was rather obvious. The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters tended to have a problem with sudden class cancellations, but, since it was year-round school, the vacations every couple of weeks were not a problem. Well, not a big one at least.  
  
"Ok, it's called 'yer too young'," Logan quirked a brow up and looked down at the red-headed sprite, trying to hide a smile.  
  
"Actually," the Professor broke in, lowering his hands to the armrests, "There comes a time when a person needs to learn how to function as an X-man."   
  
Rogue beamed for a moment but then the professor continued.  
  
"Especially when they are almost done with their studies."  
  
Rogue blanked and looked back at Bobby questioningly, who in turn shook his head and nodded towards Colossus who was gaping at the statement. Then, slowly a big grin spread across his face.  
  
"That's not fair," Rogue began but Bobby dragged her off before Logan could get in another comment on their age.  
  
Bobby thumped the taller, muscular guy on the back as he pulled Rogue down the hallway, thankful she had worn a long sleeved shirt that day.  
  
"I can come...really?" Colossus asked, half expecting he had heard them wrongly.  
  
"Yeah, your uniform order came; it....it takes longer on the larger sizes." Logan teased. Though he felt a little uneasy at the return glare he got from the youth. _'Would adamantium be able to cut whatever metal his mutation created?'_  
  
"Of course, Piotr. You have to start sometime." Xavier said, "And it gives you something to do...aside from deciding what you would like to do for a career and which college to go to for it."  
  
Piotr placed a big hand behind his head and rubbed sheepishly a moment. He was more comfortable at going out and being an X-man and all that entailed than applying for a degree...or dealing with the future."Cool," he agreed.  
  
"So get ready. Let's leave in an hour." Scott said as he left the room followed by Storm and Logan.  
  
"You should go pack, Piotr," the Professor said.  
  
"Yes, Professor." Colossus said, then everything sort of set in and he realized he wasn't dreaming and he took off down the hallway, his heavy footsteps thumping.  
  
Xavier's soft chuckle echoed in the small room a moment later.  
  
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The sun was beginning to rise when the pounding sounded on the door. A moment later, a small robed figure threw open the door after having looked through the peep hole. She could not contain her exclamation at the sight that met her eyes.  
  
"Methos!! What happened??!!"  
  
The pitiful figure struggled to reply a moment. "Powerful immortal," was all he said as he leaned against the doorframe not being able to stand on his own any more.  
  
Nadya supported him on her other shoulder and helped him into the room, her eyes noting the smear of blood left on the door frame before using all her strength to get her friend to the couch. She was suddenly thankful she had it covered so the blood wouldn't damage the upholstery.  
  
_'Methos, what have you gotten yourself into now?'_  
  
"Owitch! Watch it!"  
  
Methos flinched and Nadya ignored his sharp rebuke despite the fact that she was indeed helping him. In fact, she looked concerned. "Why hasn't it healed? It should have by now." She swabbed a wound on his lower abdomen with a cloth soaked in hot water.  
  
"Depends on the Quickening and the wound," the old man rasped, grimacing as she pulled out a shard of steel with a towel-wrapped hand. His opponent's dagger blade had broken in his side before the end. "This was a powerful Quickening, the body takes longer to adjust."  
  
"I thought your body would have been able to take anything," she commented, tossing the shard into the nearby wastebasket. Methos' sweater and coat lay nearby and he reposed on the covered leather couch while she worked away at his wounds.  
  
Methos glanced down at the young woman as she patched him up. He would heal in time, it was sure, but, for now, he needed help to keep from bleeding out and dying again so soon. He suddenly felt a stab of guilt as he saw her small brown hands covered in blood. His blood. He was glad that she wasn't queasy about blood; if she had been, she'd gotten over it the day he'd been killed in her presence. The day she had learned about Immortals.  
  
The sun was rising quietly and steadily outside her bay window that overlooked the Seine. MacLeod had removed himself to Paris for a while and, fascinated with the idea of Europe, Nadya had followed, transferring to the Paris office of the Coopers and Hills Publishing House for whom she was now a coveted editor.  
  
"Where were you?"  
  
"Off the Champs Elysees."  
  
Nadya's face took on a horrified look. "That public of a place, someone is bound to have noticed."  
  
"I heard the sirens as I left."  
  
Nadya closed her eyes and sighed as she pressed a bandage over Methos' abdomen. "That will stop the bleeding until you heal, which will hopefully be soon."  
  
Then she rinsed her hands in the bowl of water and gathered up the stuff to head to the kitchen, taking Methos' sweater with her.  
  
"Hey, what are you doing with that?" he wondered.  
  
"There's no way you can wear this again; it's rag pack fodder!" she replied, tossing it in the garbage and pouring the soiled water down the sink and washing her hands again with antibacterial dishsoap. Soon, she returned with a plain, dark-green button down shirt. "Here."  
  
Methos looked at the shirt and then at her, his eyebrows raised. "And you just happened to have this around?"  
  
Nadya shrugged, tossing it at him. "Don't even think it. It was mine; I like to wear it around the house but it's yours now. Now I should go get some clothes on, too." With that, she moved towards the bedroom.  
  
It was only then that Methos noticed that she was only clad in her short blue brocade robe. "What do you have on under there anyway?" He knew it would get a rise out of her.  
  
"A gentleman wouldn't ask such things," she replied with a smirk and shut the bedroom door most of the way.  
  
"Afraid that MacLeod would walk in and get the wrong idea?" the ancient couldn't resist teasing; it was a part of his nature.  
  
"No, the heater shut off ten minutes ago. I'm cold!" came the reply from the bedroom.  
  
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A good 45 minutes later, the drone of a jet engine could be heard for a moment over the New York landscape, but only for a moment before the Blackbird shot past the speed of sound, beginning its arch over the upper Atlantic Ocean.  
  
The professor looked out his window at the white trail of jet exhaust trailing after. He was still staring out the window when the trail had dissipated into the atmosphere.  
  
"What could have done something like that? And more importantly, why?" Xavier pulled himself out of his musings and turned his wheelchair to leave the room and start the repairs on Cerebro. Perhaps then he could find some answers.  
  
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Nadya came back into the room where Methos reclined on the couch, flicking on the TV on her way to the kitchen. Methos, grunting in disgust as the annoying marvel of the 20th century blared to life, propped himself up on one elbow and opened his mouth to call after Nadya…only to be interrupted by her.  
  
"Yes, I know you want a beer, but, of course, I don't like that stuff in my house." She turned and placed a hand on her hip as she rounded the island in the middle of the kitchen. "I'll brew you some coffee in a minute...or some tea?" she offered as she opened the refrigerator door.  
  
Methos suppressed a smirk. The small figure was clad in a long denim skirt with a slit up the back so as not to slow her down. Covering the upper part of her frame was a violet colored sweater, worn more for looks than for the chill of the mild September that Paris was having this year. Her feet were shod in her light-blue fuzzy house slippers...the ones with the little bows.  
  
Methos' smirk became a smile as he responded, "Actually, I am aware of that and was going to ask for the tea to begin with."  
  
Nadya poked her head around the door to look at him. The old man gave one of his boyish grins that annoyed the life out of her...except for the fact he looked so cute when he did that._'Must be feeling better if he is in the mood to play,'_ she thought before saying, "It's from India—Princess Gita." With that, she ducked her head back behind the fridge to hide her smile at the upcoming reaction.  
  
"...can't you have any decent tea?"  
  
Nadya wasn't sure what language he had slipped into but she remembered his rants about Indian tea--namely, the British obsession with it and, specifically, Byron's obsession with it, among other things. She knew he hated the stuff.  
  
".....bloody nasty stuff!" Methos paused to get a breath, ending his tirade for a moment. "Could I have coffee instead?"  
  
Nadya composed her face and peeked around the door again.  
  
By then, Methos had remembered his manners, "Please."  
  
"Of course! I keep some just for you." She moved toward the cupboard.  
  
"I know." Methos grinned and lay back down on the couch. Nadya was about to respond when the television drew her attention, followed by the old man's.  
  
The television portrayed a protest in the streets of Washington D.C. The crowds of people holding signs and yelling were lined up behind barricades along streets in front of Capitol Hill. Fists were raised in the air, along with signs proclaiming the country's growing concern about what some were so bold to call a world wide epidemic. Mutants.  
  
"Today, the streets of Washington belie what the Congress voted just the day before: that the United States will not require mutants to register nationally. Yet, apparently, the public has not had its concerns met by their representatives," came an anchor's voice over.  
  
The camera panned away from the reporter to fan the angry crowds. Some were even chanting, "Death to mutants!" The newsfeed cut back to the newsroom and the anchors closed the story then as they looked to another camera, appearing to leave the turmoil that was gripping the world at large and focus on a public interest story.  
  
"If only it were that easy," Nadya said as she moved over and turned the television to the French version of A&E.  
  
She and Methos shared a sympathetic look before she asked, almost in a whisper, "Aren't you...?"  
  
"Afraid they will come after us next?" Methos finished as he looked down at his wounds, almost healed by now.  
  
"Yes." Nadya clinched a small fist at her side. Her concern for her friend was evident; not just for him but Duncan as well. And all the others."I have seen far worse." Methos replied, mostly to alleviate her fears. If only she knew what he had not only seen but had done. His mind flashed back to a year ago and his own involvement with the bunch of racist..._'no, **speciest** jerks'_. He should have felt guiltier about being involved with Stryker, but well...  
  
_'Well what, old man? You wanted that adamantium! You wanted to keep your own head! You are selfish...yes.' _Methos thought to himself. _'But, when you have been Death, nothing is too hard. And morals...well, morals are fickle things.'_  
  
Methos didn't regret his time spent playing the bad guy…only that it had proved useless in the end.  
  
"You have?" Nadya asked.  
  
Methos nodded. "The world has seen far worse than this...and I suspect even that will one day be surpassed. Humanity lacks no limits to the depths to which it is capable of descending," he said as he sat up, his wounds finally closed.  
  
"That...is an awfully pessimistic attitude," Nadya answered, a somewhat sad tone to her voice.  
  
"Well, what do you expect?! I just got attacked by a bloody big, powerful immortal, almost got apprehended by the authorities, walked several miles with a gaping hole in my side, AND, to top it all off, there is no beer in the place I sought refuge at!" He threw his hands up in a gesture of 'why me'."I...Ithink some tea would calm you down," Nadya murmured as she moved back to the kitchen. Her tone was flat and low; he could tell she was hurt by his outburst.  
  
"Nadya...wait! No, I'm sorry. Please, no tea; I've suffered enough," Methos staggered to his feet, cursing himself, and followed the small woman to the kitchen. 


	2. 2

**Chapter 2**  
  
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The police had arrived on the scene moments after the incident had happened...at least that is what the coroner had deduced from the time of death. Sergeant Lucious Renoieve had put away three cups of coffee, poor quality coffee at that, but the police departments did not give a lot of perks, especially on the night shift. But no matter; the cafes would open soon enough.  
  
'Then I can get _le petit dejunier_ (breakfast)."All the pictures had been taken of the crime scene, and the body was being zipped up in the black bag to head off to the morgue. Renoieve chuckled a moment at his own stupid joke. It's not like they would need the coroner to tell them how the man died. But it was certainly curious. The fellow was a good 250 lbs. It was not so easy to decapitate someone of that size.  
  
"I will deal with it tomorrow," Renoieve decided as he headed off down the block to an open cafe. He still had a lot of paper work to finish before he went home but no rush.  
  
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The Blackbird settled down in a small clearing about five miles outside of Paris. They had come in low over the landscape to stay out of radar range. The engines shut down and Storm unbuckled her harness.  
  
Scott stood behind her. "OK. I will call for a cab. We'll head to the police department first."  
  
"I'm sorry, what did you say your name was, monsieur?" A petite secretary questioned of Scott with a flirtatious French smile.  
  
"Scott Summers. And this is Ororo Monroe and..." he paused.  
  
"Logan," the loner provided.  
  
It was then that Scott realized that none of them knew Logan's last name. Or if he even had one."We are investigating a disturbance in the area and were wondering if anything unusual has happened in the last few hours." Scott continued.  
  
"You are federal agents?" Ms. French Smile questioned.  
  
"You might say that." Storm replied quietly.  
  
"_Excuse moi un minute, si vous plais_. (Excuse me, one minute, please.)" With that, the secretary scuttled off into an office nearby.  
  
After a moment or two, a gentleman exited the office and beckoned them within. "Please, come in. I am Sergeant Renoieve."  
  
The three mutants entered the office and Scott and Storm sat while Logan leaned against the wall, as was his fashion.  
  
"Now, what is your business here in Paris, _mademoiselle and messieurs_?" the gentleman asked.  
  
"We are investigating a disturbance in the area, Sergeant," Scott replied, "And we were wondering if anything particularly strange has happened in the area within the last few hours?"  
  
"And how, may I ask, did Americans come to be involved in business of which I have only recently become aware, in my city nonetheless?" Sergeant Renoieve inquired. It was obvious that he was more than suspicious.  
  
"We have connections and, if you want to stop whatever is going on before it gets too serious, you'll help us, pal," Logan answered curtly.  
  
"It already is serious!" Renoieve snapped.  
  
"Why, Sergeant? What has happened?" Storm questioned gently, doing her best to be diplomatic. "Perhaps we could help each other."  
  
Just then, Ms. French Smile entered the office. "Sergeant, here are the photos of the crime scene off the Champs Elysees. Decapitated, _trés gross_!"  
  
Sergeant Renoieve gave her a deathly look and took the file. "_Merci_, Jolene. That is all."  
  
She seemed to get the point and quickly scurried from the room.  
  
"A decapitation?" Storm prompted.  
  
"_Oui_, most unusual case. We have no leads as of yet aside from a bloody sword." Renoieve was as short as politely possible. He wasn't about to let them know about the series of mysterious decapitations in Paris over the years.  
  
"A sword?" Scott echoed and then Storm nudged his foot.  
  
"_Merci beaucoup_, Sergeant Renoieve. We will get out of your way now." she said, rising gracefully.  
  
Sergeant Renoieve seemed to be a little pacified by the lady's politeness and, as such, stood to bid them good-bye.  
  
"Oh, and _mes amis_, don't go messing around in my city," he added.  
  
"Is that a threat?" Logan practically growled.  
  
"_Non_, it is a warning." The office door closed.  
  
With that, Storm pulled the two men out of the police station, Ms. French Smile casting another yearning look at Scott's retreating back.  
  
"So now what?" Logan asked as they stepped out onto the street where they met up with Piotr.  
  
"Did you find anything out?" the tall Russian asked.  
  
"The Sergeant said that there was a decapitation off the Champs Elysees. I figure we follow the yellow tape." Scott suggested.  
  
With that, the four mutants set off into the city as daylight grew in Paris.  
  
Back at the Mansion, Xavier had repaired Cerebro and again sat at her console, lifting the helmet onto his head.  
  
_'Let's give it a try.'_  
  
He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to find the energy path from earlier. He looked among mutants, concentrating longer than he ever had before, searching through Europe intensely. Nothing. Then he tried the humans and found something interesting; amidst the white lights that made up humanity, there was something faint, something different. They weren't mutants but they weren't fully human either. What were they?  
  
As Professor Xavier lifted Cerebro's helmet from his head and set it on the console, he pondered, _'What on earth…what could it be?'_  
  
Turning, he whirred out of Cerebro and into his office, opening up his communicator.  
  
"Scott. Ororo. Are you there?"  
  
"Hello? Yes, Professor?" Storm answered the summons. "Have you found anything?"  
  
"Yes, something quite unusual: an abnormality among the humans. Not mutation but something different altogether. They are human and yet not." Professor Xavier rested his fist on his lips. "Have you been able to find out anything from the authorities?"  
  
"Yes, apparently, there was a decapitation early this morning somewhere on the Champs Elysees."  
  
"That could definitely be a useful clue. Investigate, but discreetly."  
  
"Yes, Professor." Storm closed her communicator.  
  
"What did he say?" Logan asked.  
  
"He wants us to check out the scene. Let's find that alley."  
  
Piotr looked around in wonder at the most famous city in the world as they walked around. He had never been anywhere but Russia and the Institute so to view some of the rest of the world was a brand new experience for him.  
  
"Whoa." Logan was a man of few words and even fewer polite ones, but the sight before the group was certainly interesting.  
  
Glass littered the alleyway between the two buildings just off the thoroughfare of the Champs Elysees. The devastation began with the streetlights at the opening of the alley and continued on back. What little there was in the narrow space showed signs of an assault, garbage cans lay strewn about and dented in, some charred black in spots as if burned. Pieces of rubber from tires were melted into piles. The mayhem culminated around a large outline of chalk at the side of one of the buildings...nearby another smaller round outline. Blood was everywhere.  
  
"Be careful what you touch," Scott said as he moved to look about the crime scene.  
  
"What are we looking for?" Piotr said as he stepped closer to where the body had lain.  
  
"Anything that stands out...if the cops left anything." Scott answered. Then looked at where Storm stood transfixed by the scene.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked, hoping she wasn't too sickened by the blood. His question seemed to snap her out of her thoughts.  
  
"Yes...it is just..."  
  
"Just what?" Piotr inquired from where he had moved to peer into the dumpster.  
  
"I have seen this before...but not with the blood," Ororo waved her hand about the alleyway. "After a lightening storm…I have seen this type of destruction before." She looked at Scott. He nodded in response.  
  
"And the professor said he saw lighting in Cerebro," Piotr commented, looking to Storm for verification.  
  
"Yes, I saw it, too, but just briefly before the machine shut down."  
  
"So whatever caused this was like a lightening storm," Scott sighed as he looked behind some wooden crates, charred black from flames. "There is nothing left. If there was any thing to begin with, the cops probably have it."  
  
"Not quite."  
  
The group looked to where Logan stood next to the wall across from the pool of blood. He was staring at it.  
  
Ororo moved over to see what he was looking at.  
"More blood?" she asked, seeing the small trail of blood on the brick wall, so dark it blended in with the dirty bricks themselves.  
  
"Yep." Logan stuck out a hand and touched his finger to the blood, bringing it up to his nose to smell.  
  
Ororo tried not to grimace.  
  
Logan then moved and with another finger wiped up a bit from where the victim had lain. He concentrated a moment before he looked up at the others. "Not from the same guy." Logan then wiped the blood from both fingers off after sniffing the other one more time.  
  
"So what does that tell us?" Piotr asked.  
  
"Nothin' yet." Logan then stood and sniffed the air. "But if I had done this, I wouldn't have gotten rid of the weapon anywhere near the body."  
He then moved out of the alley the back way, pausing to sniff before turning right and down another alleyway. The group followed.  
  
Methos left Nadya's apartment a little after noon, and, after serious debate--mostly for the option of free beer--decided not to go to Mac's barge and indulge himself. It was beer, after all, that had gotten him into this mess.  
  
_'No, mustn't blame the beer.'_  
  
Methos remembered the bottle he had left the bar with and hadn't gotten to finish because of the large fist that his jaw suddenly got introduced to after the presence had washed over him. Beer dulls reaction time.  
  
_'Not like I hadn't figured that one out millennia ago.'_ He chuckled to himself.  
  
No, it was time to head home and get some rest.....then some beer. Yes...at Joe's or Macleod's. Or both? Methos wrapped his trench coat around himself and headed home.  
  
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Logan could smell the fear just before he entered the alleyway. It was strong, the kind you smell just before a person dies, or is threatened with death. It's strong. He had been following it for blocks, along with the scent of blood, which now was stronger than before. Logan went over to the dumpster which had some blood on the corner._'It's the same....and the one who died was not the one who started this,'_ he thought to himself as he also caught the smell of beer. He looked down. The shards of a beer bottle lay up against the wall. Logan knelt and lifted a piece of it. The person's scent entered his nose....not the fear or the blood.....but the guy's true scent. And it was ....  
  
_'Familiar....but from where?'_ Logan kept this to himself as he rose and looked back at the others.  
  
"Found anything?" Scott questioned.  
  
"Yeah. He came this way...both times, too." Logan sniffed the air again. The combination of the blood, fear, and now the guy's own smell made picking out the path easier. Logan started to move off down another street, before pausing and looking back at the others.  
  
"If I hear one word about hound dogs or tracking, you are going to find this guy on your own," he growled and then stalked off down the street.  
  
Scott and Ororo looked at each other and smiled. Piotr trailed along behind, taking in as much of the city as he felt he could without getting to distracted from what he was supposed to be doing. But it wasn't easy.  
  
.......................................................................................................................................  
  
Nadya had just settled down into her favorite chair after putting the dishes into the dishwasher. She should be doing work but, instead, had grabbed a new book to enjoy with her Pepsi.  
  
She was just about the flick the TV on for background noise when she heard the knock at the door.  
  
...........................................................................................................................................  
  
It was late afternoon when they had reached the flat. The scent of blood was strong here. Logan even noted some on the floor. They followed him upstairs to one of the doors.  
  
"Here," Logan said softly, pointing to the doorframe. "It's been washed with..." he sniffed and snorted. "Arg! Bleach, but he was here."  
  
"Ok." Scott whispered. "We don't know what we are dealing with, so let's not try to make them angry." He raised his hand slowly to knock on the door.  
  
Logan got ready to extend his adamantium claws as the others prepared to go on the offensive if the guy inside was violent. A moment later, the door opened.  
  
A pair of deep-brown eyes peered up into Scott's face, then around to the other people standing outside her doorway.  
  
"Hello. May I help you?" Nadya asked in simple French.  
  
The scent of blood had struck Logan strongly as the door opened. He almost leapt through it, certain that the guy must be in there. But he held himself back.  
  
_'She's so small.'_  
  
The X-men looked down at the young woman, unsure as to how to proceed, when Ororo suddenly pushed past the men. "Nadya?"  
  
The girl's eyes widened and she quickly switched to English. "Ororo, is that you?"  
  
Storm smiled widely and took the young woman into her arms, hugging her tightly. "How wonderful to see you!"  
  
Nadya laughed. "And you! Please, please, come in!"  
  
As they filed in through the door, Storm introduced the others. "These are my friends Scott, Logan, and Piotr."  
  
Piotr held out his hand. "You can call me Peter."  
Nadya smiled as she shook it. "Piotr? _Rooskee, da_? (Russian, yes?)"  
  
He looked surprised and replied in his native language. "_Da_!"  
  
"_Meen yah za voot Nadya. Ochin preeyatna!_ (My name is Nadya. Nice to meet you.)"  
  
"_Ochin preeyatna_, Nadya." Piotr replied.  
  
Nadya threw him a sweet look. He was a good-looking Russian, which was to be sure. "Would you all like something to drink? Tea, water?" she offered politely, doing the honors of the house.  
  
Piotr and Ororo took tea and Logan and Scott settled for water. As Nadya hurried off to the kitchen, Scott leaned towards Ororo.  
  
"Does she...?"  
  
"No, she doesn't know."  
  
Logan, meanwhile, had sat on the couch and the strong scene of blood mixed with the pure scent of their quarry almost sent him into a conniption. "He's been here and a long time, too," he muttered to the others.  
  
"She knows him then..." Scott began.  
  
"How do you and Ororo know each other?" Piotr asked quickly and rather loudly as Nadya suddenly returned with the tea and water.  
  
"Ororo came to my university and gave a lecture, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and we spoke extensively afterward. We've tried to keep in touch over the years." Nadya smiled as she handed Piotr his teacup.  
  
"Nadya was an extraordinary student and writer; it was a pleasure to meet her. What are you up to now, Nadya? How did you come to be in Paris?" Storm questioned.  
  
Nadya smiled. "I work for Coopers and Hills Publishing House; I'm an editor. I felt that I needed a change of scenery and so I put in for a transfer to the Paris office for a while."  
  
Ororo smiled. She had known that Nadya was a talented young woman and now to see her having achieved success was satisfying. The group conversed for a while, Nadya filling Storm in on the events of her life over the past few years.  
  
"What about you, Ororo? What are you doing in Paris? And on my doorstep nonetheless?"  
  
"Oh...we're just about doing some sightseeing. Trying to find a friend but we must have gotten the addresses mixed up." Scott supplied.  
  
"Well, how about we meet up this evening, catch up some more? A friend of mine owns one of the best blues bars in Paris. And I'm sure he'd love to meet you. Here's the address," Nadya pulled out a pencil and pad and wrote down: 11 rue de Nesle, 75006.  
  
"Shall we say seven?"  
  
Ororo took the address and pocketed it. "Sounds wonderful!"  
  
Nadya smiled, "If you get there before I do, just ask for Joe and let him know that you're friends of mine. He owns the place and will give you the royal treatment. I'll bring a few friends with me so you can meet them."  
  
Ororo smiled as she and the others rose to leave. "We shall let you finish your work," she indicated to the stack of manuscripts on the desk.  
  
Nadya nodded and gave Ororo another hug before opening the door for them. "See you this evening."  
When she had shut the door and they were down the hall a ways, Logan snorted. "She knows him. He was there. He spilled a lot of blood in that apartment."  
  
Ororo shook her head. "There's got to be a good explanation. Nadya would not be involved in murder; she just couldn't!"  
  
Logan glared at the back of Storm's head as they walked down the hallway. "Not everyone's as innocent as they look," he snarled. "I could smell him, on her, too!"  
  
She whirled around to face his eyes. "I know her, Logan!"  
  
Scott stepped between the two. "We're meeting her tonight, perhaps her friends have noticed something strange going on."  
  
Nadya, meanwhile, was calling Mac and Methos to let them know to meet her at Joe's that evening. Then, she called Talia's villa in the countryside, just in case the elder Immortal cared for a night in Paris.  
  
_......................................................................................................................  
  
'Home sweet home.'_  
  
Methos had strewn himself across his king-sized bed. However, he awoke and glanced at the clock when Nadya's message clicked on the answering machine. A good three more hours' sleep; he could do that.  
  
He turned over and tore the bandages from his bare torso, glancing at the brick-brown blood that had soaked them through. Nadya had developed into a right good nurse; Mac wouldn't be happy if he knew that Methos ran to Nadya whenever he needed to be patched up or housed right after a Quickening.  
  
_'She's a good child.'_  
  
Of course, Talia would tell Methos that Nadya was not a child; she was a young woman. But, he still thought of her as a little girl. Couldn't help it; it was one of the few ways he could endure her patronizing ways sometimes. He imagined a little girl in a blue dress and pinafore with hair ribbons, playing 'Mom' with her dolls and it usually evaporated any annoyance when she scolded him.  
  
Anyway, sleep now. Thinking and beer later.  
  
About the time a small but fast European sports car had pulled itself off the back roads and onto one of the main highways headed toward Paris, the really old immortal had done a double-take with his own bedside clock and realized he was going to be late. Not that he would care, but he should shower. Looking down at the dried blood caking his chest confirmed this thought.  
  
"So I'll be late," Methos said to no one in particular as he pulled himself out of bed. 


	3. 3

**Chapter 3**  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Nadya was the first to reach the bar, mainly because she liked to help Joe get the place ready to open. It was a far cry from when she had worked for him when she lived in Seacouver, but spending time with Joe brought her more joy than money ever did. Besides, Joe liked to play a little if there was time before the place opened.  
  
"The pretzels and peanuts are in the bags in the back." Joe called out to her as she moved into the back of the bar.  
  
"I found them!" Nadya called back and emerged, arms full of the two large bags just as the door opened and Ororo entered with her companions.  
  
"Hello!" she called out enthusiastically and Joe turned to see who Nadya was waving at.  
  
He took in the four newcomers. Nadya had said some friends were coming by, but this was not what he had imagined. She had said she only truly knew Ororo, which Joe assumed to be the pretty lady with the white hair in a lovely white top with flowers, who smiled and returned Nadya's greeting.  
Two of the others—-men--Joe could not picture, or, rather, did not want to picture her spending time with, more so the taller one who was eyeing the rest of the bar suspiciously.  
  
_'Not an Immortal,'_ Joe thought, _'But perhaps just as dangerous.'_ His time spent in the army and as a Watcher gave him a lot of experience when it came to reading people, and the guy in the leather jacket was not someone he wanted to meet in the dark.  
  
The other guy might have been clean-cut but for the dower expression and furtive glances about the room as well. Of course, the most telling aspects of a person, the eyes, were indistinguishable behind the red sunglasses…which he kept on even inside.  
  
Joe would have laughed out loud if he had been alone; part of him realized he was playing the role of "father figure" for the younger woman, but his next thoughts rose unbidden just the same. Ororo's third companion was a tall, younger man, shifting nervously from foot to foot yet trying to hide it. Joe noted the younger man's gaze moved about the room as well but landed again and again on the younger lady as she made introductions. _'Well, well...you had better tread carefully, son.'_ Joe thought as he nodded to the younger man.  
  
"....and Piotr, this is Joe Dawson, a good friend." Nadya finished up the introductions.  
  
"Nice to meet you all." Joe said to the group.  
  
"Why don't you all have a seat? The rest of the crowd will start to file in eventually, and my friends should be here in a little while." Nadya gestured to a bit further back from the stage so they would be able to enjoy some conversation over the blues music that would soon be playing.  
  
"You'll be joining us?" Ororo asked as they moved towards the table.  
  
"Yes, I just need to help Joe with a few more things..."  
  
"No, she doesn't." Joe broke in and gave her a shooing motion with his hands. "I'll be fine with Mike. You go sit with your friends."  
  
Nadya was about to complain but thought better of it and moved to sit with her guests.  
  
Ororo had spent the few hours before they were to meet at the blues bar in internal turmoil. Nadya was a sweet, kindhearted soul. _'How could she be involved in...murder?' _  
  
Still, she focused on putting her best face forward until she knew all of the details.  
  
Scott was having trouble dealing with that aspect of the situation, too, but knew he would get some answers eventually.  
  
Logan, though, was convinced the younger lady was involved on some level. But he was aware of something else that the others were not, something that he was unable to communicate with them in front of the company.  
  
The scent was in the bar.  
  
Whoever had survived the alley and gone to Nadya's home spent a great deal of time here....specifically at the bar. 'I could even pick out the stool the guy sits on if I had to.' Logan thought.  
  
Piotr's thoughts were presently controlled by his libido. Not on the mission most definitely and hadn't been truly since they had reached the city. Piotr would have loved to wander about the L'ouvre for a few days on his own. He would still like to do that....only with company. Preferably, the company that was now seated next to him, tiny hands gesturing ever so often in-time with the blues tunes emanating from the stage. She was a fascinating, lovely creature, and it was the first time he had met a girl so close his own age that he was attracted to, as he was the oldest student at the Institute.  
  
_'But what if she has....'_ Piotr hoped silently that this was all some big misunderstanding.  
  
The object of Piotr's fixation suddenly turned towards the door as it opened and moved to greet the approaching figure, which had paused by the bar to speak with Joe. Nadya gave a warm smile and hug to the taller man, causing a moment's jealousy before Logan's voice interrupted Piotr's reverie.  
  
"The one we were following definitely comes here....a lot. I don't think that is him, though." Logan glanced back up to the bar as the two people headed back towards them.  
  
Logan caught a whiff of the other man's scent as he approached and got out a hurried "No, it's not him" before they got within hearing range.  
  
"This is Duncan MacLeod," Nadya introduced to tall man with the dark black trench coat with matching hair and friendly smile. "Duncan, this is...." and the introductions were made all round.  
  
"Hello, nice to meet you all. Yes, I live in Paris. The weather is quite nice now, yes. Oh, I have known Nadya for quite some time. You are here on vacation. Yes, the Gardens still have some flowers. Do go and see them if you have the chance."  
  
The customary pleasantries were interrupted when the newcomer suddenly froze and looked to the door of the bar. Though he tried to hide the change in mood, both Logan and Scott caught it. Logan also caught a slight scent of fear, though nothing too notable. Nadya also noticed this and looked towards the door, as it swung open. The doors banging somewhat covered the sound of the chair flying back as Nadya shot out again to rush to give the newest patron a hug.  
  
The woman was taller by a good five or six inches...of course, the black boots added another 2 inches to that. The blue jeans she wore were nice fitting but not too tight and flared slightly at the bottom while riding low on the hips. The turquoise sweater was an extremely low v-neck with a white tank top underneath that became visible as the lady shook jet-black hair over her shoulder to welcome the hug. Nadya spoke to her and she nodded, then spoke again before turning to Joe with a warm smile to accept the small shot glass he had set out on the counter almost as soon as she had entered the building.  
  
"That is Talia Devisson," Duncan said to the others at the table. He noted the looks on the male faces, even on the younger man's face that had seemed so fixated on Nadya just a moment before. He held back a chuckle and rose to give Talia a kiss on the cheek.  
  
"Duncan, good to see you again."  
  
"Likewise, Talia. It isn't quite the same without you here; you shouldn't spend so much time at your house."  
  
Talia smiled at him and then looked about the table.  
  
"Everyone this is Talia, another good friend. Talia, this is Ororo...." And the introductions began again as Talia sat down next to Nadya on the other side of....  
  
"This is Logan..."  
  
The other man nodded to Talia, who interrupted Nadya a moment.  
  
"Logan what?" She smiled, one eyebrow arching slightly.  
  
"What would you like it to be?" Logan countered.  
The look Ororo gave him, as well as MacLeod and Nadya, would have melted steel at the comment made in very bad taste.  
  
Not that he cared. Truth be told, he didn't remember his last name and a smart-mouth remark was the first thing that had came to mind. The reaction from Talia, however, took his mind off the others.  
  
"Ha!" A slight bust of laughter followed by soft giggling came from the dark-haired lady, prompting Logan to take a closer look. A pair of extraordinary blue eyes glanced back at him from under dark lashes and a lightly tanned complexion. She raised her hand and the shot glass and took a sip of....  
  
_'Vodka.'_ Logan's sense of smell supplied that information as well as Talia's own smell which he was finding quite pleasant at the moment: vanilla and, underneath that, the scent of the ocean and breezes in the forest.  
  
"I shall have to get to know you a little bit better before I would presume to give you a name...Logan." Talia said to him after she sat her half-empty shot glass on the table, smiling at the man across from her.  
  
She then looked to the younger man on the other side of Nadya. "And this charming young gentleman would be?" Talia queried to Nadya.  
  
"This is Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin."  
  
Piotr nodded to Talia politely. "_Zdrasvootye_ (Hello)."  
  
"A pleasure," Talia said, recognizing the look and that the younger was a bit out of sorts at the moment. Talia caught a glance from Duncan as she looked across the table at him. The 'where is your sword' glance which she summarily ignored, of course, and continued on with the conversation.  
"Where is Adam?" she asked Nadya.  
  
"I left him a message but he was quite tired, he may not have gotten it." Nadya replied quietly.  
  
Talia noted the slight body language that denoted stress and concern. 'Methos, tell me you are not going to bother Nadya after battles.' Sadly, she knew that the annoying Immortal was probably doing just that.  
  
"Adam...?" Scott asked, trying to keep the conversation going to see if they would give anything away. This might be the person they were looking for, especially since he was sure Logan would not have reacted like that had Talia been the culprit.  
  
"Adam Pierson." Duncan supplied. "He does research, teaches, plays the perpetual grad student...."  
  
"Steals beer..." Talia quipped, smirking at Duncan who chuckled.  
  
"A dear friend." Nadya finished, gaining nods from both Duncan and Talia. "Even though you spend as much time wanting to strangle him as you do anything else."  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
"I should have packed a cell phone. Wait, I hate cell phones. I hate phones in general!" Methos muttered to no one in particular as he walked to Le Blues bar. A 10-minute drive turned into a 2-hour walk.  
  
_'You knew how long it would take...you've spent over 90 of your life walking...cars are new to you. So why are you so blasted annoyed that it had to break down? Oh, because now you shall have to deal with people wanting to know why you were late...I still haven't had a beer!'_  
  
"That has to be a record." Methos finished his internal tirade aloud and paused his pace a moment taking in that new-found fact. He then quickened his pace.  
  
_'Only fifteen more blocks left.' _  
  
The crowds had dissipated the last patrons filing out long ago, but it was a weeknight after all. Joe had moved up on stage to play a bit before joining the group at the table. The conversation had been present and the company enjoyable.  
  
Then, Logan tore his eyes away from Talia as the scent of fear filled his nostrils again. He looked up in time to see Duncan glance at the door. He also noted Joe regarding Duncan's behavior as well. He noted a smirk playing on the corners of Talia's mouth as he turned his head towards the door. The wind gushed in as it opened, carrying the specific smell he had spent the better part of this day following across Paris. He gave a quick look to Scott to let him know this was the guy. Then he turned back to face the door.  
  
"Why on earth does it always decide to rain when I am nowhere near an umbrella?!" The newest customer said aloud as he rushed into the room, shaking off a heavy coat and tossing it over a nearby chair before looking up at the crowd before him.  
  
"Joe, I believe I am going through beer withdraw..." His conversation cut off mid-stream.  
  
Logan pushed back his chair suddenly, causing it to fall loudly to the floor behind him. "YOU!" he bellowed.  
  
Methos just stared a moment, transfixed, before saying hurriedly, "I can explain!"  
  
Logan made to spring at the man, only to sprawl face-down onto the floor. Talia's boot quickly retracted as she grabbed one of the pins out of her hair, with which she had bound it up earlier in the night. The long piece of silver grasped in her hand, she moved out of her chair and over Logan, placing the piece at his jugular.  
  
The room froze.  
  
Talia looked up at the blinking Methos. "You were saying?"  
  
But, before he could reply, Logan's claws extended and, heedless of Talia's dagger, he swiped backward at her, roaring!  
  
Talia fell back against the table, three bloody marks across the side of her face!  
  
"NO! What are you doing?!" Nadya screamed and rushed at him but soon found Logan's claws at her throat, the point barely making an impression in her skin.  
  
"Don't...move!" he snarled.  
  
Then, Logan found a samurai sword at his throat. "Get away from her!" Duncan ordered.  
  
"Stop it! All of you!" Piotr's voice bellowed through the bar.  
  
Everyone turned and glanced at the young man and the Immortals and Joe almost lost their jaws. Gone was the 6'6 young Russian man and in his place was a 7'2 steel monster! Duncan stood down and Piotr pulled Nadya away from Logan's claws. Even in her amazement, the girl ran to Talia, helping her up.  
"Talia, Talia! Are you all right?"  
  
Talia opened her eyes and something rumbled in her throat. "No, but I will be!" With that, she twirled the small dagger in her fingers and hurled it into Logan's shoulder. "OK, now I feel better." She shrugged off the coat as she stood up, the blood beginning to retract. "That leather was new."  
  
Logan growled and drew out the dagger, letting it clatter to the floor. He watched the wound heal and then his face took on a look of shock as Talia's did the same thing, the large slash wounds closing up until you would have never known they were there!  
  
"What are you?" Ororo gasped as Logan stepped back until the mutants were on one side and the Immortals/mortals on the other.  
  
Methos still remained where he had stood, silent throughout it all. Suddenly, he found a huge hand around his throat. Piotr!  
  
"I remember you!" the Russian said lowly. He walked forward until Methos was slammed against the wall, at least half a foot off the ground. His grip tightened. "You worked for Stryker! You broke into my home, stole my friends! **You shot children!**"  
  
Methos struggled for breath, clawing at the hand that held him, but finding only steel-smooth metal.  
  
"No, Piotr! Please, let him go!" A frantic voice cooled his blood and he looked down to see Nadya pulling vainly at his arm. "Please, let him go! You'll kill him!"  
  
Suddenly, he let Methos fall to the floor and Nadya bent over him. The rage inside Piotr boiled even more seeing her tend this man who had worked for one who tried to kill all mutants.  
  
"Would someone tell me what the hell is going on here?!" Joe demanded, leaning on his cane and glad that everyone else in the bar had left already.  
  
"Someone lost the measuring stick, so the boys had to resort to physical violence," Talia said softly as she wiped the remains of the blood from her face with a napkin.  
  
A moan and cough from the wall drew everyone attention back to the slumped figure.  
  
"I am going to have to start stocking my own fridge with beer if this keeps up." Methos sputtered.  
  
"You shot at children?" Nadya, who knelt beside him, directed the question at Methos. It was soft yet carried the weight of a judge's gavel.  
  
Methos looked at her and for a moment considered lying. The towering metal giant of a man standing about a yard away from him discouraged that thought.  
  
"Would you believe it is more complicated than that?" the old man ventured, not liking in the least the look that brought to Nadya's eyes.  
  
_'This has got to be the suckiest day...week...no...probably decade of my life.'_ Methos thought as he pulled himself up off the floor. _'Four against two....not good odds.'_  
  
He looked about the room and the mutants outnumbered the immortals 2 to one. _'How on earth did I get into this mess? What I wouldn't give for a beer and a plane ticket to Bora Bora right now.'_  
  
"Oh, I believe what I saw, bub." Logan said, pointing with his adamantium claws at the other man. "That was you, with guns and a bunch of camouflaged military terrorists in the mansion shooting...AT US!" he finished in a yell.  
Methos, to his credit, did not flinch.  
  
"Is it true?" Talia asked as she approached Methos, paying attention to where Nadya still knelt on the floor yet ignoring the towering metal giant across from them.  
  
"Partly. Most of the guns were filled with tranquilizer darts," Methos offered, his face going hard a moment. "And I do not have to explain myself to you or to them!" He pointed to the others.  
  
A soft sob broke his tirade before it started and he looked down at the shaking form, offering up several long dead curses when he saw Nadya crying.  
  
"**I like kids.**" Talia's voice was cold, right before Methos found another dagger imbedded in his left lung. His face took on a look of shock and disbelief as he gasped for air.  
  
"NO!!" Nadya shrieked but Talia grabbed her by the shoulder and let Methos slump down to the floor and die.  
  
"Hush, luv. It's not like it's permanent. Besides...everyone needs a moment to cool down, eh?" Talia spoke softly into her friend's ear and held her close while she pulled herself together.  
  
"You killed him." Ororo said, finally finding her voice. Even Piotr had backed off from the scene, shedding his armor.  
  
The room was still divided down the middle.  
_'Oh, this shall prove to be a most interesting night indeed.'_ Talia thought before speaking.  
  
"Well...he's not quite dead yet." A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth at the well-placed joke.  
  
"I know a dead body when I see one!" Ororo stated, hands on her hips.  
  
Talia shrugged. "Have it your way."  
  
Joe groaned then interrupted the conversation. "Why do you people always have to make a mess in my bar?!" He then moved, haltingly, and picked up a nearby mop.  
  
"Duncan, think you could move him and get some water to clean up this mess?" he asked as he held out the mop.  
  
"What is wrong with you people?!!" Scott bellowed. "What is going on?!"  
  
"Why don't you tell us?" Talia said as she had Nadya sit down in a chair and poured her a glass of water.  
  
"What about....?"  
  
A sharp gasp of air, and a loud groan brought everyone back to the figure lying on the floor. The mutants watched as Methos raised a hand and pulled the dagger out of his body, letting it clang to the floor. Then, he glared at Talia.  
"I liked that shirt."  
  
"More's the pity, and I do believe you have some explaining to do, young man." Talia said as the rest of the mutants watched the recently dead man pull himself up off the floor for the second time that night.  
  
"And what if I think explaining is a waste of time?" Methos asked defiantly.  
  
Talia twirled another dagger, this one pulled from her boot. A message that she was not to be messed with.  
  
She then looked at Logan. "Mind telling me why you attacked my friend, Logan?"  
  
Scott had reached his breaking point. "OK, that's it! You…" he pointed at Duncan, "Tell me why he's not dead!"  
  
"Not until YOU tell me why he tried to impale him!" Duncan retorted.  
  
"You're mutants," Nadya's voice quieted the forthcoming argument once more. She looked at Storm. "Ororo, aren't you?"  
  
Storm found herself torn again. On the one hand, she trusted Nadya. But, on the other, Nadya knew this man who had captured her students, indeed her children; she was friends with this man! She had just seen them kill each other in front of her. What was she supposed to say?  
  
"Yes, we are, Nadya."  
  
Nadya's eyes dropped as she stood and turned towards the bar to return her glass. On her way, she stopped but never turned around.  
  
"They are Immortals. There. Now we're square." With that, she disappeared behind the bar, into the office.  
  
There was a sound of absolute confusion in her voice that resonated throughout the room, even after she was gone.  
  
Piotr felt something sink within him. Talia and Duncan looked at each other silently and then Duncan nodded to Joe. The old man then thunked his way back towards the office.  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
"Nadya, hun?"  
  
Joe had used that affectionate word with her before but it seemed to carry greater weight this time. Must be the father instinct finally making itself known.  
  
She sat at the desk, her head rested in her hands. "I thought the shocks were over. I thought everything weird that could happen had already happened and life was starting to level off. Now..." Her voice trailed off.  
  
Then she looked up at Joe. "He shot children, Joe! Children! For no other reason than they were born with something beyond their control! Have you ever heard of anything like that?"  
  
The old Watcher slowly took a seat next to her, sighing. "You're not going to make me go through the whole Vietnam speech, are you, Nadya?"  
  
The young woman just looked at him and then dropped her eyes again. "I...I just don't know what to make of all this."  
  
Joe reached out and put his finger under her chin, raising her head. "This doesn't all lay on your shoulders, girl. We're all in this together. Remember?"


	4. 3, part 2

**Chapter 3, part 2**  
  
----------------------------------------------  
  
Back out in the bar, the Immortals and the mutants were at a standstill, neither group willing to give up their hand, their secrets.  
  
"So, what? Are we just gonna all stand here staring at each other for the whole night?" Logan growled, his claws still not retracted.  
  
"Or we could see who heals faster: you or me," Talia suggested. "And, frankly, I've got a lot more practice under my belt than you do."  
  
"Is that so?" Logan mocked. To take a good look at her, she seemed just old enough to be in the bar. Well, in the U.S. at least.  
  
"Millennia worth." Talia deadpanned after a beat.  
Duncan and Methos both shot wide-eyed looks at the smaller woman.  
  
"Talia..." Duncan warned. Methos just clenched his fists at his side.  
  
"Millennia?" Scott echoed. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"Not at all. That one over there…he's at least five thousand years old, give or take a century or a couple." Talia nodded her head at Methos from her new perch on the table. She jabbed the dagger she held down into the table next to her. Then she reached into a pocket and produced a small silver flute and began to twirl it through her fingers...over...under…over...under. She was forcing herself to be calm, hoping to present a non-threatening target to the mutants.  
  
Methos spat out a few indecipherable phrases before moving over to the bar.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" Logan growled at the man.  
  
Methos turned as he moved around the bar, reaching up slowly to remove a bottle from the shelf and twisting the cap off the beer. "I've died twice in as many days. I want a beer." He articulated each syllable, keeping his eyes locked with the other man even as he took a long pull from the bottle.  
  
"What about you?" Piotr looked to Duncan, who just gave a little sigh of surrender.  
  
"I'm a little over 400." The only way to get through to these people was obviously to be blunt.  
"So that would make you...what exactly?" Logan snarled at Talia again.  
  
Mirth sparkled in her eyes, as did wit. "Oh, a gentleman never asks a lady her age, now does he?"  
  
"I'm no gentleman." Logan retorted, to which Talia merely inclined her head in agreement.  
  
"Fine then." A soft smile played on her lips again. "How old would you like me to be?"  
  
Logan blinked at having his earlier words thrown back at him. He was not quite sure what to do with this woman who was flirting with him one moment then threatening his life the next. 'Why do I keep meeting women like this?'  
  
"You said 'millennia.'" Piotr reminded her.  
  
Talia looked at the younger man, now devoid of armor....metal skin... whatever he had on a moment ago. "Have you ever seen a saber-toothed tiger?" she questioned him. Tossing the flute into her other hand effortlessly as she shifted her weight to face him.  
  
"Yes...in the museum...the one you took us to last year, Scott." Piotr looked to the older man.  
  
"So have I. They were exquisite creatures.....extinction is such a waste in retrospect." She let her eyes play over the people in the room, hoping the full meaning of her words sank in.  
  
"Is that a threat?" Logan asked. His offensive attitude earned a deep sigh from the seated woman.  
  
"I don't threaten ...I find it to be a gross waste of time. It is, however, a call for truce."  
  
"Think about it," Duncan broke in, sheathing his sword, "If the world has enough reason to hate the both of our species, why would we make that even worse by going after you? Especially when you didn't even know we existed."  
  
Talia looked at Methos as he finished his second beer and tossed it into the garbage. "Well, Methos, care to shed some light on the subject?"  
  
"Methos?" Ororo asked. "So you really are..."  
  
"Five thousand years old, yes." Methos bit out and moved from behind the bar.  
  
"So answer the question, 'Methos'. " Logan demanded.  
  
"Why did you work with Stryker? Why shoot up the school?" Scott asked.  
  
Just then, Nadya walked into the room with Joe. Both were slightly relieved to see the atmosphere not as charged as before, though Logan still had his claws drawn. Nadya caught the tail end of the question and added to it.  
  
"Why did you shoot at children?"  
  
Methos looked at her eyes...red from tears. _'I hate it when they cry,'_ he thought to himself.  
"They were tranquilizer darts." he defended himself again.  
  
"Not the ones I had flying at my head, or at Bobby's! You guys had live ammo in that school!!"  
  
"Oh, and your claws are so harmless?" Methos face twisted slightly.  
  
"I didn't break into the mansion, now did I?!" Logan's voice grew louder.  
  
"Enough!" Nadya shouted over the two arguing men.  
  
Talia smiled at her tenacity. Piotr bit back his own smile at the sight.  
  
"Answer the question, Methos!" Nadya looked directly at him. Then she pointed at Logan, showing no fear of the man with the claws. "And you..." she growled, "Shut up and let him finish!"  
  
The Wolverine was quite taken aback by this small woman and found himself slightly speechless.  
  
Methos sighed and then pointed to Logan's claws. "That's why."  
  
Talia looked at the claws protruding form Logan's fists, then up at the man in question.  
  
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of attached to them. So you wouldn't have been able to steal them." Logan quipped.  
  
"Please! I am not that stupid. 5,000 or so years have taught me a thing or two." Methos crossed his arms. "I went to the mansion because Stryker ordered me to...because I joined him with the intent of having the process done to myself." he finished.  
  
"Process...?" Talia looked to Logan again.  
  
Logan held up a claw, retracted it into his arm again, and then flashed them back out. Talia raised an eyebrow at that.  
  
"The adamantium covers his entire skeletal system…the claws are just an added bonus." Methos explained. "His ability to heal himself kept him from being killed during the procedure."  
  
"How do you know so much about it?" Logan questioned, more suspicious.  
  
"Stryker had x-rays...and he liked to brag." Methos smirked.  
  
"So...you wanted a metal skeleton?" Nadya looked back to Methos.  
  
"Adamantium is unbreakable…" The old man trailed off, leaving them to draw their own conclusions.  
  
"You son of a..." Joe breathed.  
  
Talia chuckled. "Bravo.....a grand plan, o' wise one. Pity it didn't work," she said half-heartedly.  
  
"Methos!! How...why..." Duncan made the obvious connection and was seemingly very upset at the old man's logic.  
  
"What does that mean?" Nadya asked, looking around for an answer, which Talia supplied.  
  
"He'd be unable to lose his head."  
  
"Oh," Nadya's mouth formed the word. Then, quietly, "And that was worth lives...children's lives?"  
  
"I've done worse!" Methos grimaced a moment; perhaps that wasn't the best way to defend himself.  
  
At this point, the others in the room decided to join the conversation.  
  
"Would some one mind explaining this?" Ororo asked, looking mainly at Talia.  
  
The dark-haired woman gave a small shrug before explaining, "The only way people like us can die is to have our heads cut off. He wanted to avoid that."  
  
"Well, avoid this!!!" Logan roared and then lunged at Methos, who managed to duck under the claws that came at his throat, but not the ones that slashed his side!  
  
His hand instinctively flew up to the wound, blood streaming through his fingers.  
  
"Logan, don't!" Scott bellowed.  
  
"Methos!" Nadya shrieked for the third time that night.  
  
Talia made to move but, this time, someone beat her to the interception.  
  
Logan felt strong arms come around his waist and hold him in place as he thrashed, enraged. He contemplated slashing at the person behind him but stopped, realizing it had to be Piotr. The younger man had encased himself in metal once again and was holding Logan in check.  
  
"Let me go, kid!!!" Logan snarled, his teeth bared.  
  
"I do not believe that would be wise." Piotr answered, holding tight but not tight enough to cut off air flow.  
  
"This is getting us nowhere." Scott said, running a hand through his hair.  
  
"You should call the Professor," Ororo suggested, realizing the tensions in the room were running too high.  
  
Scott nodded and pulled out the phone.  
  
"Hey!" Duncan broke in. "How do we know you aren't going to call the police, or call in more of your...people?"  
  
Scott and Ororo looked at each other, then about the room....a tall metal man holding on for dear life to another guy with claws while another bloody guy held his guts in on the floor, now pooled with two distinct blood stains that would need cleaning up. Then they looked back at Duncan.  
  
"Um...never mind," the highlander said, realizing the stupidity of the statement and stepping back.  
  
"Hello. Professor?" Scott said when the call went through. "Yes....well, it's gotten a little complicated. You see..." He recounted the events of the past day to Xavier for the next hour while the others listened.  
  
Ororo talked with Logan for a while and THEN Piotr let the man go, after she had promised a good electric shock through his metal system if he didn't cool down.  
  
Talia came to stand between him and Methos, who just sat and stared out into space as he leaned against the wall.  
  
Nadya had moved over and was sitting on the stage, her head resting on her knees.  
  
Talia kept glancing over to the younger woman, wishing she could go comfort her. She satisfied herself with glaring at Logan from time to time. The man had absolutely no self-control.  
  
"What makes you think I won't try to take your head?" he had asked just before Piotr had released him, after Ororo and Talia had spoken with him. He was doing it to try to get under her skin.  
  
The elder Immortal had tilted her head and placed her flute back into her pocket. "What makes you think I won't take yours first?" Again, she smiled sweetly at him. It was fun to alternate between the threat of death and playing the role of temptress, especially with this one.  
  
"Metal bones, remember?" Logan tapped his neck.  
Talia glanced down and then back up at his eyes again. "Wrong head." She quipped, "I doubt that will grow back."  
  
Then she walked over and sat on the nearby table between Logan and Methos. The mutant did not make a comeback; he couldn't.  
  
Talia drew herself back to the present and glanced over at the younger man: Piotr...the other person in the room who also seemed concerned for the woman by the stage. She watched as he shed his armor and moved over to sit next to Nadya. She smiled slightly.  
  
Logan noted the smile and turned to look at the two. Then he looked back at Talia. She was smirking at him. 'Women!' he thought and then focused on looking everywhere in the room but at her.  
  
It wasn't easy.  
  
"Nadya? _Ti kharasho?_ (Are you all right?)" Piotr asked as he sat next to her.  
  
"_Nyet, Piotr. Ya ustala_ (No, Piotr. I'm tired)," she replied.  
  
"_Poocheemoo_ (Why?)?"  
  
Nadya sighed. "My life has been very strange over the past few years. Just when I thought things were settling down..."  
  
Piotr bit his bottom lip and glanced down, sort of shuffling his feet. He glanced up at Talia. "How did they...?"  
  
Nadya intuited the rest of the question and sighed. "They are born that way. No one knows how because Immortals cannot have children. They can be perfectly mortal, grow old, and die, if they aren't killed before their time. If they are, then they become Immortal. They can live for years and centuries, even millennia. But they must constantly fight. Other Immortals come for their heads; when you behead an Immortal, you gain their power, their life-force. It's called a Quickening. Talia is the oldest Immortal living."  
  
"How old?"  
  
Nadya smiled. "I think somewhere around 36,000 years old. She was frozen in ice for most of it, though. You should ask her about it sometime."  
  
Piotr chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. It was something Nadya found very beautiful.  
  
Then he became serious. "And you...? Are you Immortal?"  
  
"Me? No! Duncan was a friend of my parents' before they died and so he's watched over me ever since. Joe is also an old friend, thoroughly mortal, though."  
  
Silence fell between them for a while and then she reached out, running her hand over the smooth skin of his forearm. "It's amazing…is it just armor?"  
  
Piotr shook his head. "Something like that. It is rather like Logan's adamantium. Heavier, though."  
  
Nadya glanced up at him, her finger stopping on the back of his hand. "Cool."  
  
"Um...Talia?" Scott stood next to her and held out the phone. "The Professor would like to speak with you."  
  
Talia took the phone from Scott. "Hello? Yes, Professor...a pleasure to speak to you as well...Yes, I would like to clear this up as much as you...Well, here is what I propose."  
  
After a short while, Talia handed the phone back to Scott. He spoke into the phone a moment more, and then hung up. "He said you would give us directions."  
  
Talia nodded, moved over, and grabbed a napkin to write down her address on.  
  
"What's going on?" Logan asked.  
  
"Were are going to have a....summit." Scott decided that was the best word. "We are going to meet together, and have a long talk, and get this mess straightened out. Without bloodshed, I should hope," he finished.  
  
"What makes you so sure everyone will show up?" Logan snarled and pointed to where Methos sat.  
  
The other man glared at him...even though it was, in fact, true.  
  
"He'll be there...one way or another." Talia said matter-of-factly.  
  
"I'm coming, too!" Nadya hopped down from the stage.  
  
Duncan turned to say 'no' but she cut him off.  
  
"Don't even think it, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. I'm coming. Ororo is my friend as well; I want to see this through and find out what indeed is going on here."  
  
Storm felt something warm inside her at the young woman's insistence.  
  
"Hey! Now that that is cleared up, can someone move him and please help me?" Joe called from over where Methos sat, now fully healed, the mop pulled out once again.  
  
"Coming, Joe! Don't worry, it'll come out. Do you have vinegar?" Nadya then hurried over and moved Methos with a well-placed hard nudge with her toe, as though moving a stubborn cat. "Shoo!"  
  
_'Shoo? What am I?'_ he wondered to himself as he clamored to his feet.  
  
Duncan spoke with Scott and Ororo, telling them where they could stay in town, even at this late hour. Meanwhile, Talia cornered Methos, her eyes flashing.  
  
"Listen to me and listen good, child. You will be there, do you understand? You will explain yourself to the Professor and then we will decide exactly what is going on here." There was no room for argument; if he had tried, he would have found another dagger in the lung.  
  
Methos simply pursed his lips and nodded slightly.  
  
Then Talia's eyes grew dark and sad. "Attacking innocents, experimenting on children. You were no better than Horton. That is the most selfish thing I've ever heard of you doing, Methos. And I'm tired of asking why."  
  
Then, she walked away towards the other group.  
  
Methos was left alone with his demons.


	5. 4

**Chapter 4**  
  
--------------------------------------------  
  
The Blackbird's engines gave off a drone that pulled the students at the school out of their Saturday morning routines of cartoons, artificially flavored/sweetened cereal, or just sleeping in late. They crowded to the windows to watch the sleek black jet sink into the basketball court...or where the ball court had been.  
  
Rogue could barely keep the smile off of her face, causing a bit of jealousy to enter Bobby's mind, but he kept it at bay, not wanting to make her mad at him.  
  
The team exited the jet and was met by the Professor in the adjoining hallway. The Professor was relieved to see that none of them were hurt despite their claims to be fine on the phone earlier. And though his worries were relieved, the situation had a long ways to go before it could share the same situation. The group paused in stride as Xavier wheeled up to them.  
  
"I am to assume that everything I was told on the telephone was accurate?" he asked, not being fully aware of the situation.  
  
"Yes, Professor," Ororo supplied, "They let us speak freely; you know the entire situation."  
The professor audibly sighed and the tension seemed to leave his body.  
  
"I still think this is a bad idea." Logan said, his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"Well if you hadn't...." Scott began, before the professor interceded.  
  
"What's done is done. Now we have to try to avert another catastrophe that I fear is brewing." Charles leaned back in his wheel chair and clasped one wrist with the other hand. "What I need to know now are all the details...after, of course, you have had time to rest a bit."  
  
To this, the group nodded, feeling the strain of the last 24 hours hitting them at once. Logan paused and turned back to the Professor as the rest of the group headed for the elevator.  
  
"I still think it's a bad idea to go into this half blind."  
  
"Going into it is inevitable, but who said anything about doing it blind?" Xavier said, giving Logan a smile before powering his wheelchair down the hallway towards Cerebro.  
  
Logan looked after the man, then shrugged his shoulders and headed up stairs for a shower and a cigar....  
  
_'...somethin' to get my mind offa this,'_ he thought as his brain conjured up a picture of black hair and blue eyes. Logan shook his head to clear the image.  
  
Bobby and Rogue waited until Piotr had finished his shower but interrupted him while he grabbed a bit to eat before he went to bed.  
  
The tall Russian looked up at his two friends as they sat down on either side of him. Piotr couldn't help to shake the feeling of an animal being cornered, _'...and by my friends no less'_. Piotr hid a smile as he took a sip of water.  
  
"So how did it go?" Rogue asked, putting her hands on the table in front of her.  
  
"It went ok...no one got hurt." Piotr's mind brought up the image of the dead man on the floor with a knife in his chest. "Not permanently." He left that statement open, knowing Rogue would think of Logan with his healing abilities.  
  
He wasn't sure how much he should talk about what happened out there. They were both his friends but Piotr knew the next few days would be important. Suddenly he thought back to the smaller young lady at the bar....with her head resting on her knees...in pain. He took another bite of his sandwich.  
  
"How was Paris?" Bobby asked, knowing his friend had an affinity for art.  
  
"I will have to go back someday." Piotr's eyes brightened in spite of being about to fall asleep. "The buildings were amazing...the architecture....and a few artists on the sidewalks....but we weren't there to see the museums."  
  
Bobby nodded, smiling.  
  
"So that's it?" Rogue asked.  
  
"Pretty much." Piotr replied.  
  
"But..." Before Rogue could drill him even more, Nightcrawler flashed into the room, startling the group of them!  
  
Even thought he had been with them for over a year, Kurt had the tendency to surprise with his sudden entrances, let alone his appearance. The blue-skinned man swished his pointed tail a bit as he turned to see the trio. Kurt smiled and waived a three-fingered hand at them then approached, hesitant to interrupt their conversation.  
  
Piotr took the opportunity to distract some of the conversation from off of him.  
  
"Allo, Kurt. How are you?"  
  
"I am vine. Danka, Piotr. How vas your trip? You must be tired, yah?" Kurt said as he grabbed some orange juice form the refrigerator.  
  
"Yes, Kurt, I am exhausted." Piotr looked to his friends and smiled. "I will see you all tomorrow. Good night!" He then rose and put his dishes into the sink and left the room.  
  
"Well, that told us absolutely nothing!" Rogue said, leaning back into her chair in failure.  
  
Bobby laughed.  
  
Kurt looked at the both of them perplexed, before vanishing in another puff of brimstone smoke.  
  
Professor Xavier sat in the stillness that pervaded the heart of Cerebro. His breaths echoed back at him as did his thoughts at them moment. He had just been in touch with a mutant friend of his in Washington D.C. A mutant with some very classified access within the FBI. His rise within the ranks had been partly due to his own psychic powers. He and Charles went back a ways. He had no problem running some background checks for Charles on short notice. So the only thing plaguing Xavier at the moment was uncertainty about the future.  
Not that he hadn't had to deal with that for years.  
  
_'Hard enough to have the majority of the world afraid of you....or worse. No, the last thing we need is another enemy.'_ Charles placed the helmet back down on the console and turned around and left Cerebro. He would need a good night's rest if he were to handle tomorrow properly.  
  
Talia had driven back to the villa later on that night after stopping by Nadya's house for a few needed things. Copies of Nadya's work mainly, even though she kept some clothes at Talia's for impromptu visits in the summer; the countryside was always so lovely then. It still was. Talia honestly didn't think the younger woman would be in any condition to work for a while but didn't feel like stating the obvious.  
  
She could smell the moisture in the air and hoped it would hold off a little longer, at least. As interesting as the modern conveniences she had awakened to find practically at her fingertips all were, driving in the rain was not enjoyable. She turned off the highway, slowing to accommodate the smaller curved roads that preceded the villa. She turned her head and found her friend asleep in the passenger seat.  
  
_'Good,'_ she thought. Nadya had been through a lot in the past few hours; rest would do her a world of good. The last hour to the villa was spent with her eyes on the road and her mind on the people she had met today, mostly on the tall, bad-mannered one with the claws.  
  
Part of her wanted to spar with him. _'He is bound to be a challenge in a battle.'_ she thought, and she was craving a challenge, a new experience. Well, actually an old one, but her old sparring partner was…well…  
  
"Stop it!' she chastised herself. Pushing the thoughts and memories from her head, she focused instead on what the next day might bring.  
  
Logan hadn't slept well all night. Parts of his dreams kept waking him forcing his body to stay awake before giving into exhaustion only to be awoken by another dream.  
  
The first one had been twisted versions about his encounters with Mystique...then another skewed one involving the battle at Alkali Lake. The last one--the one that was dancing in his conscious mind now--had been a conglomerate of the two, plus a new face. A pair of blue eyes staring at him from the darkness, drilling into his soul while a voice said, "Logan....Logan."  
  
"Logan!" Charles voice joined the softer feminine one in his head, causing him to start out of his strange reverie.  
  
"Huh...wha...?" Logan looked about before realizing that the Professor had spoken telepathically.  
  
_"We are to leave in two hours, but I need all of you to come to my office a moment."_  
  
"Ok."  
  
_"And Logan..."_  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
_"Put out the cigar. This is a school...positive examples."_ The Professor's presence left his mind.  
  
Logan mumbled something before taking another long drawl on the cigar and then putting it out on the stone bench he was sitting on.  
  
"These are from a friend of mine in the Capitol." Xavier said as the computer flashed up pictures on a screen, which were of some familiar faces.  
  
Logan came in and took up his usual place, leaning against a wall, as the Professor started.  
  
"He was not able to come up with much on such short notice, at least in the way of pictures." The screen changed to show the face of the man named Duncan MacLeod, clearly a driver's license picture.  
  
"This one is about 15 years old."  
  
Storm sat up straighter and let out a gasp. "He looks exactly the same...only the hair is shorter now."  
  
Charles nodded.  
  
"It holds up the truth of what they said then...about being immortal." Scott added.  
  
"Only partly immortal, they can die." Logan added just at the picture of the other one came up. "Adam Pierson" it said underneath and was clearly a passport photo.  
  
"That's him." Logan grunted.  
  
"They said his real name was Methos," Piotr added.  
  
"Five thousand," Scott said softly.  
  
"I would have guessed around 27 myself." Charles said as he looked at the picture. He handed the others the histories of the people in question. Both went back about 15 years and, before that, their pasts were sketchy. "Duncan MacLeod is currently a teacher at a university Stateside, and before that he owned a dojo and an antique store. The one called Adam is a graduate student _in perpetua_ at the Sorbonne with sporadic attendance; he was also employed as a researcher."  
  
"What about the others?" Scott asked.  
  
"Their histories were more straightforward. According to my friend, Joseph Dawson was decorated major who lost both his legs in Vietnam." Xavier paused here a moment, perhaps out of respect or sympathy...or mutual loss. "He owns two bars, one here in the States and the one you went to in Paris."  
  
"Nadya Jamesson, the adopted daughter of Elen and Michael Jamesson, is an honors graduate of NYU, now employed as an editor with Coopers and Hills Publishing House, currently assigned with the Paris office by request. Her parents died around 4 years ago."  
  
Piotr found himself musing, "Nadya's adopted?" It stirred something inside him that was curious.  
  
Ororo leaned back into her chair, "What about the other one?"  
  
Logan's nostrils flared. He had been thinking the same thing.  
  
"Nothing." Charles replied. "The only thing we have about the woman is that she bought a villa--apparently the one we will be staying at--a little over three years ago. Before that there is nothing."  
  
"That's not good." Scott muttered.  
  
"Nadya said she spent the better part of her life frozen." Piotr added, bringing everyone's eyes directly to him.  
  
"Really? Why didn't ya tell us that before?" Logan groused.  
  
"You didn't ask," Piotr defended.  
  
"What else did Nadya tell you?" Charles asked.  
  
The Russian shrugged and continued, "She said that Talia was very old...36,000 years, I think. And that she had been frozen......um, also that the immortals are born with the ability to be mortal and normal if they are not killed before their time. They cannot have children, and if an Immortal cuts off another's head, they get, um...their soul...I think." Piotr finished weakly.  
What he had been most concerned about had been that Nadya had seemed so sad at the moment; he had wanted her to talk to get her mind off her problems. He hadn't really focused on her conversation...just watched her as she talked. And then, of course, she had touched him....that had broken his concentration completely.  
  
The others were very silent, mostly from shock that the young man had found out so much and so easily, too.  
  
Charles broke the moment. "We leave in an hour, and be sure to pack for a few days....no telling how long this will last. And, Piotr....good job."  
  
The tall Russian smiled at the Professor but Charles could tell it was half-hearted. _'This is going to be a very interesting trip indeed.'_


	6. 5

**Chapter 5**

****  
  
Methos had risen early that morning...not part of his usual routine, at least not in this lifetime. He had grabbed a beer from Talia's refrigerator.  
  
_'Being forced to be here would be bad enough....at least she was kind enough to stock the fridge,'_ the old immortal thought briefly before heading outside into the misty morning.  
  
Talia's villa had two gardens. A large one that the previous owners had placed in the back covered about an acre, with well-trimmed bushes and small saplings, reminiscent of the royal gardens from the past centuries. Methos, however, went out to the smaller garden on the side of the house.  
  
The opposite side afforded a view of miles of the French countryside from the top of the hill. The other side had a garden that had been there for well over a hundred years. Part of the villa's foundation formed a wall enclosing the garden on two sides. A stone railing served as a bench before the steps that descended to the garden floor. Three ancient trees provided shade about the garden, as well as natural walls on the other two sides of the garden with bushes and overgrowth adding to the effect. A piece of sculpture in the shape of a reclining nude figure was the only human addition evident in the enclosed paradise. The benches to rest on were formed of the natural boulders that had remained when it was dug out on the ground.  
  
Methos sat where, had it been noon, the sun would have warmed the stone beneath him. He sat and drank in the early morning stillness. His blue-green button up shirt hung loosely about his blue jeans and he repositioned himself, placing his unshod feet upon the stone railing and nestling the beer protectively by his side. He looked out over the deep green shades of the garden. It evoked a sense of peace that his soul craved; yet, for all his efforts, he could not lay hold of that peace.  
  
_'And, after the next few days, will I ever get to again?'_ Methos toyed with the wrapper of the beer bottle before taking a sip and returning it to his side.  
  
_'Who are they to judge me anyways?'_ His jaw tightened and flexed. _'More importantly, why am I letting them? Why remain? Do I really care? Why am I staying here?'_  
  
His sense of self-preservation was very strong; it always had been, but..._'Oh, there is always a **but**, isn't there?'_ He smirked a moment. _'With judgment comes…punishment...but something more...perhaps...forgiveness...peace?'_  
  
Methos sighed. _'Why not?'_  
  
It was then that he felt the soft presence wrap around him. Like the whisper of a spring breeze on your cheek when all the flowers begin to push out of the ground to bloom. He knew who it was but turned around anyway. His eyes turned up slightly to look at the doorway a few steps above where he was seated. A moment later, Nadya's form filled the doorway.  
  
Her hair hung loose and slightly curly around her shoulders, which were bare in the thin-strapped, powder blue sundress, the front ribbon hanging undone. Her small brown feet were also bare as she stood in the doorway.  
  
"That's not good for you, you know? The beer, I mean." She glanced down at her feet for a moment. "I...um....I was going to fix cereal....or pancakes...or...." she trailed off. Part of her did not know what to think of her friend anymore and conversation seemed awkward.  
  
"Either. Both. The company is better than the food anyway." Methos said as he consumed the last of the beer from the bottle, turned his back on the quiet garden beneath him, and placed his feet back on the ground, facing the sprite of a woman...girl....  
  
_'Depends on whose eyes I look at her through: Methos' or Adams','_ he thought as he summoned a smile for her.  
  
"Ok." Nadya said quietly and moved back into the villa.  
  
"Nadya," Methos pushed off and headed after his sprite. He definitely wanted to fix this rift between them before it got any wider.  
  
Reaching inside the door, he grabbed her upper right arm, his large hand completely encircling it. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, surely from the shower she had taken not long ago. He could still smell the aura of cotton blossom soap hanging around her.  
  
Nadya turned about as he pulled her back, her eyes glancing from his face to his hand and back. His grip slackened.  
  
"Nadya, please..." he started. "Please, talk to me. You've barely said a word since the bar."  
Nadya bit her bottom lip and, slipping out of Methos' grip, wandered into the nearby atrium, sitting on the cool marble step. "What do you want me to say?"  
  
Methos sighed and sat down next to her. "That you hate me? That you can't believe I'd be such a bastard? That you wish I were dead? Anything, honestly."  
  
"I don't hate you, Methos." It was a quiet admission but one that calmed his heart a little. "I don't understand you...probably never will…but I don't hate you. You mean too much to me…you have saved my life, you've trusted me with your secrets. You've…you've got to stop running, Methos."  
  
He looked at her, somewhat surprised.  
  
"You were Death once, Methos. Don't run from him now. Death is not the end…it's just a path that we all must take sooner or later."  
  
"I'd rather it were later...much later...never," the old man muttered.  
  
Nadya smiled quietly and, reaching out, touched his cheek. "You're a good man, Methos. No matter how you try to run from it or kill it, you are a good man. You're just a little selfish."  
  
Methos felt her words, though spoken kindly, kind of sting. "One gets to be after 5,000 years," he quipped, falling into his cynical mode again.  
  
"No!" Nadya brought her other hand up and, clasping it, turned his face to hers. "No, don't put up the walls, don't give me that devil-may-care attitude, Methos. Don't be Death, don't be the cynic, don't be the old man. Just be...just _be_. That is all I ask. Be the man I have come to care so much about."  
  
Suddenly, the ancient found himself leaning into those small hands, as though something were flowing from her to him. Quiet, acceptance...peace?  
  
Nadya's eyes half closed and she leaned forward. Methos felt her lips claim a gentle kiss on his forehead. By the time he opened his eyes, all he caught was the tail of her dress disappearing around the corner.  
  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..  
  
Logan was the last on the team to arrive at the Blackbird before they left. However, he noticed that Piotr had also taken a bit longer than a guy normally does to pack. He saw the guy get intercepted by Rogue and Bobby just before the elevator. He heard the volley of questions shot off by the southern accent. He knew they wanted to go. Heck, he even knew they might do a good job; they already had. Logan shut off the memories of a year ago before they surfaced and brought the painful memories with them.  
  
"Hey! Quit holding up the train!" Logan bellowed. Well, tried to bellow gently. He stopped in front of the elevator and glared at Piotr. "There will be plenty of time to talk when we get back." he said gruffly and ushered him into the elevator. Logan nodded goodbye to the young couple as the doors closed and it descended.  
  
"Thank you." Piotr said.  
  
"No problem." Logan answered. Ten minutes later the Blackbird shot out over the horizon.  
  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..  
  
Talia had awoken early. Just before sunrise actually and had watched in awe as the blood red orb inched its way up over the countryside. That was the one reason she had chosen this place. The view from the back and the left side afforded glorious views of the country. The villa was situated on a high hill above a valley, a small river winding its way miles off, shimmering in the early morning sun.  
  
Talia had chosen this room for her own, even though it had been the library at one time. She still left the books up on the shelves. The only changes had been to add a bed and chest for her clothes and to remove one of the old leather couches.  
  
"Exquisite," she breathed aloud as the sun broke with the earth and moved up on the sky. Toying with the small silver flute in her hands, she almost raised it to her lips to play a bit but thought better of it as she heard a sound approaching. A loud drone. Her eyes caught a black speck across the valley.  
  
A jet.  
  
"I had better get dressed."  
  
She moved across the room and grabbed some clothes to exchange for her nightgown and headed through a side door that attached the room to a bathroom.  
  
The Blackbird slowly settled down in the small clearing near the villa that they had been given an address to. The global positioning satellite had located it fairly easily. Logan was the first off the Blackbird as its engines shut down. He looked about the area for signs of a threat, sniffing the air as well. He caught all the scents he had before, including the one he had come to despise.  
  
The Professor wheeled down the ramp with the others. The X-men had decided to dress out of uniform for this meeting. No one wanted to provoke the others. The group approached the villa and Scott raised a hand and hefted the large knocker shaped as a gargoyle, sounding their arrival.  
  
A few beats later, Duncan MacLeod opened the door.  
The Scot was dressed in a lightweight sweater with a simple weave over blue jeans, leather boots on his feet. He had finished his kata and meditations earlier and had just taken a shower when he heard the jet approach. He opened the door and stood back a pace. The group entered the villa, which opened up just past the door into a large room.  
  
The second stories on either side of the house were connected via a walkway with a staircase leading up to the landing. The first story was open beyond that also with a wide view of the countryside beyond what appeared to be a dining room and lounge area ahead.  
  
Duncan gave a warm smile to the group, and it was returned by almost all of them.  
  
"Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." He extended out his hand towards the Professor.  
  
"Charles Xavier," said the gentleman as he grasped the other man's hand. He refrained from scanning very deeply but sensed no outward animosity that would have indicated trouble.  
  
"We can start anytime you are ready, but if you would like to put your things in your rooms first..." Duncan trailed off.  
  
"That would be fine." Charles said, not wanting to rush the matter that was fast approaching them all.  
  
"There are several rooms empty on your left," Duncan pointed. "The two at the end of the hallway are occupied, though. And the first two on the right are also empty." he said to the others.  
"The room over there," he gestured to the Professor, "Is open. I will be out there once you are settled in."  
  
"Thank you." Xavier nodded and then moved off with his suitcase.  
  
The others ascended the stairs to see their rooms. Scott and Ororo went off to the right, while Logan and Piotr headed left. The two men found two open doors across from one another. Both had lovely works of art, many landscapes and forest scenes that prompted Piotr to trade rooms with Logan.  
  
"I think I will appreciate this side more than you," the younger man said hurriedly before placing his suitcase on the bed like a flag at the top of a mountain.  
  
Logan raised an eyebrow at this but went into the neighboring room anyways. The smell that had assailed his nostrils was emanating from the far end of the hall. But at least it wasn't from the one they called Methos. He placed his suitcase on top of the chest of drawers, not bothering to unpack it. He gave his room a cursory inspection. Its window afforded a partial view of the valley and the expanse where the Blackbird was parked. His ears picked up giggling and he heard the door open at the far end of the hall. He couldn't make out the conversation but, suddenly, the sound of feet pounding on marble could be heard. Logan caught a small figure flash past his door.  
  
_'Nadya,'_ his brain recognized. Preparing for trouble, he moved to his door, hearing another set of feet approach. Logan stuck his head out just as Talia rushed past him, intent on her prey.  
  
She spun around as she reached the stairwell, her black hair continuing with the momentum across her face. She wore a white cotton tank top with a bit of lace around the v-neck, and a pair of faded blue-jean Capri's. Bare feet slid to a stop and she smiled at him a moment before rocketing down the stairs in pursuit of her friend.  
  
_'She looks like a...a...kid.'_ Logan's mind was wrapping around that newest picture when he heard someone call his name. He turned to find Piotr staring at him.  
  
"What?" he asked, blinking for a moment.  
  
"Are you coming?" Piotr asked as he walked past.  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming." Logan then followed the younger man down the steps.  
  
Nadya had, meanwhile, raced down the stairs and hidden herself in the grand front hall. Talia slowed her pace, moving quietly, stealthily, so that her feet made no sound on the marble floor.  
"I know you're there. You always hide in the same place," Talia called then sighed as reality pushed into their fun and forced herself to say, "Our guests have arrived; we should finish this."  
  
"Must we?" Nadya's voice suddenly came from on high.  
  
There she was, perched atop a tall statue of Pallas Athena in the midst of the hall, like the goddess's owl upon her shoulder.  
  
"Yes, I fear we must," Talia chuckled.  
  
Sighing, Nadya quickly scaled her way down the statue, effortlessly and with absolutely no fear of falling. She'd loved to climb, even as a child, and had not lost her knack for it.  
  
When Nadya stood next to her, Talia turned to the whir of wheels.  
  
"You must be Professor Xavier," she said, holding out her hand to the approaching man. "Talia."  
  
"Miss Devisson, pleasure to meet you." Charles replied, shaking her hand.  
  
"Please, call me Talia. The last name was added solely to keep people from getting suspicious." She answered pushing her hair back over her shoulder as her hand was returned to her.  
  
The Professor nodded acquiescently. Again, he resisted the urge to scan deeply....seeking out only what would indicate open hostility....and again he found none...but he also sensed something that unsettled him.  
  
"Shall we?" Talia gestured to a nearby doorway. "After you." Then she turned to Nadya. "Could you make sure that he attends?" she whispered.  
  
The young woman nodded and turned to head down another hall. But, just before, she turned to Piotr. "It's good to see you again, Piotr." She used the Russian pronunciation.  
  
Piotr nodded. "And you, Nadya. Are you joining us?"  
  
"Oh, yes. I just have an errand to tend to. I will be there in a moment." With that, she hurried off down the hallway.  
  
Opening the door that stood ajar, she spoke softly. "It's time, Methos."  
  
Sighing, the old man stood from his bed and moved to the doorway. "I still don't think this is a good idea."  
  
Nadya reached out and smoothened his shirt. "It's the only plan we've got and there will be no bloodshed here. You're safe." Then, grasping his wrist, she pulled him towards the large sitting room. "Come along then."  
  
.....................................................................  
  
Duncan glanced over the gathering in the large reception room. Four mutants, three Immortals, and two mortals; Joe had just arrived. They would need his knowledge as a Watcher, Talia was sure.  
  
Nadya sat upon the lush ermine rug, her back to a sunny window. She had a habit of not sitting in chairs but on the floor. Knowing this, Talia had purchased several comfortable, large rugs and placed them in the most obvious rooms: the sitting room, the media room, and the grand library.  
  
Piotr sat where he could watch Nadya but yet not be easily seen by her so that he could observe without being too obvious himself.  
  
Talia hid a smile at the attraction the young man was fostering. _'I hope this turns out alright in the end; it's about time everyone had some good times.'_  
  
Storm and Scott sat next to each other, Storm's chair next to the rug where Nadya had positioned herself. She gave the young woman a smile and they chatted for a moment, each inquiring as to how the other was.  
  
Methos had, of course, taken the seat farthest from Logan. Methos was careful to not ignore the mutant that had it in for him while Duncan moved to one of the chairs near the Professor. Talia sat across the room on the stone railing over looking the larger garden and valley beyond. She removed her flute just as Duncan began the meeting.  
  
"Professor, as you are a guest here, would you care to begin?" the highlander questioned before sitting.  
  
Professor Xavier sighed. "To be very honest with you, I am not very sure where to begin, naturally. As most of you undoubtedly know, the world has been rising up in resistance to mutants: people whose only crime is being born different from others. My colleagues and I work to avoid a world-wide witch hunt for mutants, both politically and subversively."  
  
"You forgot violently!" Methos interjected. "Or are you conveniently forgetting Magneto?"  
  
Logan growled. "You're one to talk, bub! You were the one helping Stryker to kill us all! All to save your neck!"  
  
"Logan, contain yourself, please!" the Professor requested.  
  
"Methos, be quiet!" Duncan bit out. "I'm sorry, Professor. Please continue."  
  
"Unfortunately, Logan has breached a most unpleasant subject. Nevertheless, it must be discussed. I am anxious to hear Methos'...explanation as to his involvement with William Stryker."  
  
At this, Methos balked somewhat. Then his temper flared and he leapt to his feet, "Why should I explain myself? What do I owe you?! I have seen civilizations and peoples rise and die out for more than 50 generations! Why should I stick my neck out now?!"  
  
"Because, this time, you let your self-preservation lead you to harm innocents," Nadya's voice came quiet but firm. "You owe those children a reason why you broke into their home and carried them off. Why they were almost killed because of what you did. That is why." Her voice was not accusatory, only honest--brutally so.  
  
There was no room for argument.  
  
Methos heaved himself into his chair again, fingertips pressed to his forehead. "I joined Stryker because he said he needed an architectural researcher. I needed a change of pace and his mutant project sounded interesting. After a while, I discovered how deep it really went. And then he showed me the adamantium and began talking about him," he pointed at Logan. "About his Wolverine. Oh, he loved to brag, loved to pat himself on the back. That he had made a mutant "useful". Then, when he repeated the process--and found it perfected, he thought, with his mind-control serum--in Yuriko Oyama, he named her Lady Deathstrike. I'll admit, Wolverine, it was difficult finding another mutant with fighting skills and a healing ability like yours. But once bonded with the adamantium and her genes infused with your healing factor to speed up her own regeneration, she was unstoppable. In the testing stages, they came at her with everything: knives, hatchets, and axes, even a chainsaw. Nothing could break her or even scratch her. That's when I realized how...useful adamantium could be to an Immortal....how useful it could be to me. I had volunteered for the project, as Stryker was curious as to how it would work on a human."  
  
Again, Piotr felt his blood boil. This man was so selfish! Willing to sacrifice the lives of people he didn't even know, just so he wouldn't have to die someday; so that he wouldn't have to work for his life. His fist clenched and shook somewhat and then he felt sharp eyes on him.  
  
Talia.  
  
She said nothing but just blinked at the young Russian before turning her head back to Methos.  
Professor Xavier sat silently. Then he spoke, "So Stryker never knew what you are?"  
  
"No, never. It's not something I go broadcasting about. I've survived because, for the most part, people--especially Immortals--believe I am a myth. No one hunts for a myth." There was bitterness seeping into Methos' voice.  
  
Suddenly, Logan's chair clattered back and he stalked from the room.  
  
"Logan!" the Professor called but the man did not return.  
  
"My, how quickly things fall apart." Talia said as she pushed herself off the railing. The others looked at her, but it was Duncan who spoke.  
  
"Tell me again, why I am the one doing this?" The Scot spread his hands out in a gesture of petition.  
  
Talia smirked and placed her flute back into her pocket. The Professor and the others wondered at this statement.  
  
"Because it is your problem." Talia answered.  
  
"How do you mean?" Scott asked.  
  
The Professor focused, almost inadvertently, his mind on her as she answered.  
  
"Because...he is the Highlander." Talia looked to Joe who chuckled. "And....the rest is my own business," she ended and left the room.  
  
Xavier was not sure what he had felt when she finished, but whatever it was, he felt suddenly older for sensing it.  
  
The silence in the room was broken by Methos' sigh.  
  
....................................................................  
  
Out on the terrace, Logan was smoking like a chimney.  
  
"Those things will kill you, you know?" A voice said from the doorway.  
  
"No, they won't," he replied. "I've been shot in the head before, missy. Right here." He pointed between his eyes. "It's possible I can't die, like you." He took another long drag of the thick cigar.  
  
"What do you say we put it to the test?" Talia suggested lowly.  
  
A small dagger came whizzing at his head! Logan's hand raised and caught it before it could lodge itself in his ear. "Nice throw." He pulled the dagger out of his hand and tossed it over the railing and into the grass below. His own hand healed from the wounds in time to pull the cigar from his mouth.  
  
Talia moved up next to him and sat on the railing, facing the opposite direction as he.  
  
"You can't accept what he did, can you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he tried to kill us, for no better reason than to save his head!" the Wolverine growled, and then was taken aback by her laughter.  
  
"And would you feel the same way had it been someone else that he had done this to, or had it been humans he had betrayed rather than your own kind even?" she asked.  
  
Talia was close enough now that Logan could make out that her eyes were not just blue but a myriad of colors from blue to green to a dusting of tan right before the black of the pupil. Logan snorted and pulled his gaze away from her, drawing again on the cigar.  
  
"Are you going to answer me?" she asked him.  
  
"I can't!" Logan grunted.  
  
"I know." she sighed, pulling one knee up and allowing her arm to rest on it. "And the revenge you want is something I will not allow."   
  
His head turned again to glare at her. The return remark was expected. "And you are going to stop me?" Logan tensed seeing only someone who looked barely old enough to drink the first time he saw her, and today....Well, today, she looked a lot like jailbait and he proceeded to say as much as he put out the remains of the cigar.  
  
"Oh....looks can be deceiving, can't they? Care to test that theory?"  
  
"What? Now?"  
  
"Granted, now is not the best time, what with the future on the knife's proverbial edge," Talia answered, "But perhaps later?"  
  
He actually smirked a little. "How do you know I won't try to kill you?" Logan asked.  
  
"How do you know I wouldn't let you if you tried?" she answered.  
  
Logan was silent again, digesting that.  
  
.......................................................................  
  
"Forgive me if I am confused," Ororo asked after Talia had left the room. "But why?" The lady leaned forward and looked at MacLeod.  
  
The Scot opened his mouth only to be interrupted.  
  
"Because he is Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod: defender of the innocent, friend to any that will have him, and everyone's favorite boy scout." The lanky immortal announced from his seat. Methos deepened his sprawl in his chair, smiling at his recompense for the highlander's earlier chastising of him. _'Your serve.'_  
  
MacLeod glared at him.  
  
"And that means what?" Scott pressed.  
  
Methos just sighed, and looked to Joe. The Watcher smiled again.  
  
"Mac is...well...Mac." Joe leaned back in his chair. "He prefers to make a friend rather than an enemy, and likes to.....ehh, fix the problems in his friends' lives. Something to do with being raised to be the leader of a clan."  
  
"Has to be everyone's 'knight in shining armor'." Methos supplied.  
  
"Should I be flattered or annoyed?" Duncan hissed at his two "friends".  
  
Nadya giggled.  
  
"What should I do, just sit by and let my friends kill each other?!" MacLeod crossed his arms over his chest defensively.  
  
"No." Nadya spoke from her seat on the carpet. "But you are successful in what you try to do."  
  
"You are a natural leader." Joe added. "The logical spokesperson for the immortal race....in theory."  
  
"Don't worry. If the glory goes to your head, it's easy enough to remove." Methos snickered.  
  
MacLeod pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
"What did you mean by 'in theory' exactly?" Xavier asked, recalling what Piotr had said about immortals getting each other's souls. He noticed that the room seemed to tense. Well, to him, it did but that was because he was monitoring the projected feelings in the room.  
  
"Because, in the end, there can be only **one**," Methos stated dryly, looking Xavier in the eyes as he did.


	7. 6

**Chapter 6**  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"You should come back in." Talia said after a moment.  
  
"Why? You don't belong in there any more than I do."  
  
Talia arched an eyebrow at the remark and smiled. _'Ok...you are more intuitive than I gave you credit for,'_ she thought and proceeded to say as much.  
  
Logan laughed. Talia found herself liking the sound.  
  
"Call it empathy," he said as he flexed his arms and sent the claws out as part of the stretch.  
  
Talia regarded them. "May I?" She voiced her question.  
  
He debated a moment and then held out his arm for her.  
  
Talia placed her hand under his wrist, allowing it to rest there. Then, instead of going directly to the claws, she placed her hand on his forearm. Her fingers pressed lightly into his skin, feeling the muscle and bone beneath and worked their way down. She paused where she felt the delicate yet unbreakable parts that made up the claws' apparatus in his wrist.  
  
Logan watched what she was doing, though not really from fear. _'There ain't much she can do to me, but...but what?'_ He swallowed and looked up from what her hands were doing, up to her face.  
  
She wasn't looking at his face, just studying the metal. He let his guard down a moment and just watched her.  
  
Talia's hand had reached the blades of the claws, and her fingers traveled down them. She had never seen a metal like this before, and said so.  
  
"Adamantium, but you knew that...unbreakable," he answered.  
  
"How fine is the control?"  
  
Logan complied by slowly bringing the outside two in, leaving the one she had her hands on--the middle one--extended. He saw the side of her lip curl up at this and found himself smiling as well.  
  
Talia followed the single blade down to the tip; she had seen many types of metals: gold, silver, iron, bronze. She had even worked them once...long ago. Part of her mind knew he was staring at her. Suddenly, she felt playful.  
  
Logan watched her face intently. He felt a slight pressure on his remaining claw, not that he was paying attention to that, however.  
  
Then she looked up at him with those eyes, her lips curling into a barely-there smile. Logan held her gaze silently for a moment and then looked down as he felt her hand come to rest on top of his fist while her other held his fist. But...  
  
_'My claw!'_ Logan looked down and saw her hand resting on top of his...with his claw sticking out the back of it! He felt the warmth of her blood ooze between their hands!  
  
_Snikt!_  
  
The claw was immediately retracted. He gaped at her, mouth open wide, before looking down. He watched as tiny flashes of lightening danced across the wound. Gone.  
  
"Come on." Talia stood and headed back.  
  
Logan found himself following. This was getting weird.  
  
The two arrived back at the room just in time to here the explanation of the Game.  
  
"You mean you.....kill each other?" Ororo questioned in disbelief.  
  
"It's just the way things are." Duncan finished.  
  
Xavier could tell that, despite their candidness, this 'game' caused them a great deal of pain.  
  
"Yes, a little bit of genocide does the body good." Talia quipped as she returned to her seat.  
Logan, however, followed her and leaned against the wall next to her.  
  
Nadya saw a fleck of red on Talia's jeans and shot her a questioning glance. Talia shook her head to alleviate her friend's worry.  
  
Xavier spoke next, though what he said was more of a statement. "So how can we trust you when you cannot even trust each other?"  
  
No one spoke for a few moments after that, until a soft voice came from the rug.  
  
"You can...at least as far as you can trust any person." Nadya said.  
  
Methos looked at her, wanting to hear what she had to say.  
  
"With all due respect, Professor, you may not think I belong here, being neither mutant nor Immortal, and perhaps I don't. But I assure you that my ties to each of these people are as strong as blood or species can be. Duncan was a dear friend of my parents' until they died. He has, before and since, been everything from an overbearing mother to a kind and compassionate friend to me."  
  
Duncan was not sure how to react to that statement, but found himself swallowing back some tears.  
  
"Talia has fast become a dear friend and a sister."  
  
Talia smiled in return  
  
"And Adam...Adam is a cynical jerk! He's rude and self-absorbed. He could care less about the rest of humanity." Nadya said, on her knees, with one hand on her hip, pausing a moment to let the old man stew.  
  
"But Methos, if you are ever lucky enough to get to know him...Methos is one of a kind. He has died for me and has saved my life more than once. He does have one irreconcilable fault, though...unforgivable, really..." Nadya returned the look he was giving her, her voice somewhat low.  
  
"He's human," she finished softly.  
  
The ensuing silence was broken by the sound of feet pounding on the floor and then the slamming of a door.  
  
Talia moved to sit by her friend. Nadya bowed her head as the woman whispered, "He is not angry with you. He just doesn't like feeling vulnerable."  
  
Nadya nodded and then got up and left the room, her soft steps going in the opposite direction of Methos'.  
  
The Professor and Duncan decided perhaps it would be best to take a break, as it was obvious that everyone needed a breather.  
  
Everyone filed out of the room, leaving Xavier and Talia there. After a while, Talia pulled out a few pins from the side pockets of her jeans and put up her hair. Midday was always the hottest part of the day and even though it was almost into autumn, the temperature was still quite nice.   
  
Charles was about to speak when the lady beat him to it.  
  
"Your powers," she turned to face him from across the room, "You are able to see my thoughts?"  
  
Charles powered the chair forward towards her as she leaned her side against the wall. "That is as valid an explanation as any," he smiled, and then pressed slightly with his mind, speaking. _'But I can also do this.'_  
  
Her reaction to this was not was he had expected nor ever experienced before, and it startled him. When his voice spoke to her mind, he watched her double over and grasp her head! Xavier stopped immediately but, before he pulled back, he felt the rush of _'fear.....almost.....no, gone.'_  
  
"I'm sorry! No one has ever reacted like that before." He leaned forward, reaching out a hand to touch her forearm.  
  
Talia straightened and shook her head, as if to clear an unwanted feeling, and then summoned a weak smile. "Unless of course you wanted them to?" she asked softly.  
  
"I do not like to use...no, _abuse_ my abilities," he defended, "And I am sorry. What did you feel?" he asked her, worried that he had hurt her. He had honestly been expecting someone a lot older but the person before him seemed so young...too young to be so…'haunted. Yes, haunted.' And her answer only confirmed he thoughts.  
  
"Pray that you never have to know." She rose and made to leave the room.  
  
"I might be able to help you." Charles turned his chair to look after her.  
  
She turned.  
  
"There is nothing to help...the past is dead.....and the living suffer only because they remember."  
  
Charles felt more than saw the feeling of sadness, the same one that he had felt before, leaving him feeling the weight of years...his own and hers.  
  
"I will see you later, Professor Xavier." Talia said and then left the room.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
She sat on the fountain's edge, beneath Psyche's gaze, and thought. She couldn't help feeling like the tragic woman of myth who tried to see Cupid-to see the man she loved--for who he really was and he had fled.  
  
These were the large, royal gardens-pristine and beautiful but, under the surface, artificial. They were not natural. Not like the smaller garden on the other side of the house. They didn't belong here. Perhaps she didn't either.  
  
_'Perhaps I should just go back to Seacouver or even New York, forget this part of life. Start again...forget about Immortals or mutants...forget everything. Perhaps this is not my place.'_  
  
Nadya's head fell upon her raised knee and she squeezed her eyes tight, trying to keep back the stinging tears that bit her nerves, burning her eyes and cheeks. Psyche's snow-white marble hand was stretched out just above the woman's head, as though to stroke her hair in empathy.  
  
But she was frozen in her own grief.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Methos brought the broadsword around and then back and up, over his head and down, reveling not only in the familiar feel of the blade's weight in his hands but the sound it made as it cut through the air. Though MacLeod had seen him meditate once at the barge, it really was not a habit for him. Just as what he did now was nothing like the highlander's katas. Though it looked like it. But it wasn't so much done to clear his mind as to reinforce his skills and with them the knowledge of what he was capable of....or not capable of.  
  
He felt ages of training and muscles that even now moved almost of their own accord. Instinct. Over time, it had come to replace the training. Of course, instinct will only get you so far; it works mainly for defense. Offense, however, is another story.  
  
Manipulation, being able to think beyond the battle, where to maneuver the fight so I have the advantage of terrain. How do I set him up with one move so I can hit him with another that he cannot shift his guard to fast enough?  
  
And of course, no two battles are the same.  
  
_'I hate feeling vulnerable!'_ He spun about, slicing off the tops of the long blades of grass in the overgrown area of the property. His invisible opponent just lost a leg...unless he had jumped, of course. 'Almost as much as I hate being figured out!'  
  
He brought the Ivanhoe about and the invisible immortal lost his head.  
  
_'Bravo, Nadya, dear sweet girl.'_  
  
Methos chuckled and headed back to the house for a shower.  
  
.....................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Piotr turned to be greeted by Nadya entering from the gardens. He saw the remains of the tears on her cheeks.  
  
He reached out a hand and took her arm. "Are you all right?"  
  
She glanced up at the tall Russian, biting her lip a little. "Yes. No. I don't know."  
  
He slid his hand gently down her arm and took her hand, reaching out and taking the other hand as well. Her small brown hands disappeared within his large ones. He stared at them for a while and then lifted his eyes to look into hers.  
  
"What?" her voice was soft, low, almost not there.  
  
"I want you to be all right. I would have you smile again, Nadya. _Yah hachoo etahvah!_ (I want that!)"  
  
Nadya lowered her head. "Piotr, smiling is not something that comes easily for me anymore. Life is hard. Tears come more easily."  
  
Then, to her amazement, he lowered his head and kissed both of her tear-stained cheeks. "Then give me your tears," he whispered.  
  
She could feel his breath on her skin.  
  
Piotr encased both her hands in his left against his chest, the fingertips of his right grazing her cheek gently as he moved towards her again. "And you take my smile."  
  
...............................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos paused at the turn of the corner, watching. He saw but knew he wasn't seen; they were too engaged in each other.  
  
Had Nadya been kissed since he met her? She hadn't said so; he wasn't even sure she had dated over the past few years.  
  
Something inside him twitched and twisted, wanted to hurt, but he denied it. He refused to give it quarter.  
  
_'Why should I? It isn't like she's Alexa._'  
  
With that, he turned and walked away towards his room.  
  
Nadya stepped back, though she desperately wanted to stay in Piotr's arms.  
  
Every nerve in her body was awake and alive, heat stinging her cheeks, layering soft pink over chocolate. His kiss had surged through her, speeding up her heartbeat and causing her stomach to do flip-flops. She'd never felt like that before...no, not true. Once.  
  
"Piotr, I..." His fingers stopped her lips.  
  
"_Ti nye dolzhen gavaresh_, Nadya (You don't have to say anything, Nadya.)." He reached up and caressed her cheekbone with his thumb but did not make another movement towards her. "I am not here to force you into anything. Just know that I'm here."  
  
With those final words, he stepped back and continued on out the door, leaving her alone again.  
  
Nadya stepped back until her back met the wall. Then she slumped down against it and cried again. Tears were the only expression she knew now. 


	8. 7

**Chapter 7  
  
................................................................................................................................................................  
**  
Duncan wandered through the upper floors of the house, contemplating that morning. How in the world had things come to this? How had the world itself come to this?  
  
_'400 years' experience and I still do not understand it all,'_ he mused as he paused before a Monet. It was one of the artist's garden scenes; a garden that Duncan himself had once visited. If life were only as simple as art, what a world it would be. If all emotion could simply be in encased in marble and expressed in music, how different things would be. Differences would be treasured, abilities revered.  
  
But it was not so.  
  
There was a quiet thunk and Joe paused in the doorway.  
  
"Why me, Joe?" Mac asked, not turning around.  
  
The old Watcher made his way over to his friend. "I honestly don't know, my friend. But I wouldn't have anyone else for the job."  
  
Mac smiled quietly at the man who knew as much or more about him than he did. Joe was indeed a blessing to have around.  
  
"I remember the lady you took to that garden. Margarite, I believe her name was," Joe commented, nodding towards the painting. "She was a keeper, Mac."  
  
Duncan laid his hand on Joe's shoulder. "You'll never change, old friend."  
  
Ororo heard a knock on the door to her room and got up to answer it, even though she would have preferred to be alone for a while.  
  
"Hello, Scott." She stood back and let him walk into the room. She could tell he was agitated, and tired, they all were. Ororo went back to the overstuffed chair that occupied a corner of the room. She had been staring at the small sketch in the corner. It was not like some of the other famous works of art in the villa; instead, it was a simple ink sketch of some old overgrown ruins. The architecture looked Italian, but she wasn't sure. Not that it mattered.  
  
"This is never going to work." Scott said after pacing about a few minutes. He picked up a figurine from a bookshelf: a small sculpted stone rabbit.  
  
"Never know until we try." Ororo offered, playing the optimist. Devil's advocate? She shook the thought from her mind.  
  
"It's just...I don't see the point of trying sometimes. Oh, I know 'why' we do what we do...I 'understand' it. But I find I have to force myself to care. It hasn't been the same since......" Scott paused, clenched his fist. After a moment, he sighed but didn't continue his statement.  
  
"I miss her, too." Ororo breathed. He nodded then continued.  
  
"As for this....mess....I just don't know. Even if we could trust the people here, what about the rest of them?"  
  
"An entire species dedicated to its own destruction...it doesn't make sense."  
  
Scott snorted and said, "From what MacLeod said, they all have a good excuse for it: ultimate power."  
  
"Sounds like Magneto. A scary thought."  
  
"I would have to disagree with you." The Professor's voice chimed in both their heads. "My apologies for interrupting, and overhearing."  
  
"It's alright, Professor." Ororo said.  
  
"Why do you disagree?" Scott asked.  
  
"The feeling that most of them gave off while speaking of it was....." Xavier paused a moment re-wording his statement. ".....of all the emotions I felt, pain was the strongest....then sadness....then fear." The two could almost feel the Professor shake his head. "They may play this game....but I don't think they like it."  
  
"Just the same, Professor, are you sure it is wise to become involved with them? Maybe we should just leave well enough alone." Scott proposed after a moment.  
  
"We _are_ already involved, Scott." Ororo answered for Xavier.  
  
................................................................................................................................................   
  
Logan passed Piotr as the younger man mounted the stairs to head to his room. The Wolverine's nostrils flared a moment at the scent that hung around Piotr and then a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. Lilac and woods. But he let the guy move on with a nod, strangely not wanting to mess with him.  
  
_'Yet.'_  
  
Right now, he had other things on his mind, and he caught a familiar scent and began to track it, wondering where she had gotten to. It didn't take him long to find her outside in the smaller garden. Here, he noted as he went down the stairs, there were no pungent flowers to assault his senses. Just the smell of earth and dirt....and her.  
  
Talia.  
  
She was lying on one of the large stone slabs placed about the garden. Her eyes were focused on the sky above, tracing the clouds. In reality, her mind was miles away....and millennia past.  
  
Logan sat down next to her and watched her for a few minutes.  
  
_'For a moment.....for a terrifying moment...I thought the voices were back.'_ Talia mused. Slowly, so as not to jar herself, she pulled her mind back to the present.  
  
Logan watched her eyes blink; then, before they even focused on him, her foot jutted out and knocked him back off the stone! He took the blow and turned it into a roll and ended up on his feet in a crouch.  
  
_Snickt_ The claws came out!  
  
Talia was crouched on the stone. A beat passed and she blinked again. "I'm sorry," she said, pulling her body out of the crouch and sitting down on the stone. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"  
  
"I didn't sneak! You were practically looking at me!" Logan rose.  
  
"Physically, yes." Talia nodded.  
  
Logan retracted the claws.  
  
Talia smirked. "A little uptight, are we?"  
  
"Me?" Logan questioned as straightened, an almost invisible curl to the side of his mouth. Things were quiet for a while and then he spoke again. "Where were you?"  
  
Talia cocked her head to the side, a questioning posture. "Not where...when." she replied and turned, looking off over the countryside, her eyes taking on a bit of that far-away look again.  
  
"In the past?" Logan questioned further.  
  
A small nod was his answer.  
  
"You spend a lot of time there?"  
  
Again, the nod.  
  
"Why?" This time the question was sincere; it deserved an answer and she gave it.  
  
"For the same reason that I could not answer your first question: 'where was I'. The where is gone. Its dust doesn't even remain anymore. It's been frozen, melted, built up, and torn down. I wouldn't recognize the ground it stood on, even if it still somehow existed."  
  
"What happened to it?" Logan asked, his eyes never having left her form.  
  
Talia was silent and then her voice came...low...as though it was not her own but something darker, fiercer, something frightening.  
"It wasn't Immortal."  
  
Silence.  
  
"How old are you, Logan? And don't trade back your earlier comment." She smirked, still not looking at him.  
  
He somehow thought the question was meant to change the subject and didn't fight it this time. "I...don't know. Jea...a friend once told me that my regenerative powers make my age impossible to figure out. And I don't remember anything before the past seventeen years so...who knows?"  
  
Talia sort of snickered to herself.  
  
"What?"  
  
She hopped off the stone. "You might as well be Immortal, my friend. In fact, you could very well be. A new breed of Immortal."  
  
"No." There was a stiffness in the one word that told Talia to never suggest such a thing again.  
  
She gave an acquiescent nod. "Very well then."  
  
Logan shoved his hands into his pockets and took a few steps around the rock, as though searching for a conversation topic. "Have you noticed...?"  
  
"Nadya and your young friend?" Talia smiled. "Yes. I've noticed."  
  
"I think they were together a little while ago." Logan commented offhandedly.  
  
"Why so?"  
  
He turned, that almost-invisible curl to the corner of his mouth again. "I could smell her on him when he passed me on the stairs."  
  
Talia chuckled. "Nadya hasn't been with anyone for a good several years. It's difficult to hold down a relationship in a situation such as ours."  
  
"Whoa, whoa!" Logan held up a hand, shaking his head. "She said that she was mortal."  
  
"I never said she wasn't," Talia returned softly. She knew of Nadya's latent immortality but would not breathe it to anyone who might tell the child. For some reason, Mac refused to let her know and had threatened them into silence. He wanted her to have a 'normal life'.  
  
_'Please, define normal,'_ Talia mused, rolling her eyes at the thought of the present situation.  
  
"I need to relax," she announced, and then hopped down from the stone and moved off indoors. "You coming?" she called back over her shoulder.  
  
After a moment's hesitation, he followed. Logan suddenly jumped back as sharp metal came swinging through the air at him, air whistling over its edges! He had just entered one of the open rooms on the ground floor. Taken aback at the weaponry lining the walls, he had not paid attention to the attack.  
  
"Whoa!" _Snickt_ Out snapped the claws, one just blocking a sai as it came at his face! He locked the sai within his claws, bringing Talia's form close to his. He looked for signs of animosity but found only that mischievous twinkle in those myriad eyes. She was playing!  
  
Talia smiled and, amazingly, Logan smiled back.  
  
"Let's dance!"  
  
Pushing back, he drew stance and so did Talia, the sais her 'claws'. Soon metal rang off metal the sounds striking the stone walls and coming back in echo. The two warriors moved back and forth, neither giving ground nor really gaining any.  
They pushed off again, both standing at defense.  
  
"Where'd you learn to fight like this?" Logan growled, teeth bared.  
  
Talia cocked her head to the side. "Experience, child." The curl was there at her mouth again.  
  
It appeared at Logan's, too, and he rushed her again. The woman complied by front flipping over him, landing her foot in between his shoulder blades on her way down.  
  
Hidden within the shadows of the doorway, Nadya watched. The two figures too engrossed in their own dance to notice the hidden figure.  
  
Suddenly, Talia let her guard down as her opponent charged and Logan's claws ripped into her stomach!! Her hand dropped its sai and clamped down on his wrist.  
  
Logan's mouth dropped open.  
  
"I can't take this," Nadya shook her head and muttered to herself. "It's too much." With that, she stepped back into the shadows and disappeared.  
  
Finally, Logan was able to shut his mouth and quickly retracted his claw. He put an arm around Talia to support her weight as her body went limp.  
She smiled, panting slightly from the exercise and loss of blood. "Good game."  
  
Logan nodded, his breathing also heavy.  
  
"Hold on. I'll be right back..." Her eyes rolled back into her head. She was dead...almost.  
  
Logan looked at the still form....heard her heart give a few last beats then quiet itself.  
  
_'Serene.'_ His brain conjured up a thought at how she looked. It wasn't the same as when he had killed...thought he had killed Mystique. Part of his mind knew she had dropped her guard on purpose. He knew that this was a ploy to get him to trust her.  
  
_'I could cut off her head now...she knows that.'_ Logan grunted and looked where his claws had gone into her stomach. The blood had pooled on the floor. Then, as he watched, tiny flickers of light had begun to dance across the holes, pulling the skin together to meet.  
  
On the other side of the manor, the thudding of horse's hooves disappeared over the hill.  
  
Logan watched as a moment later she gasped for breath with wide eye, then a bought of coughing. He leaned back watching as she looked about the room, as if recognizing it for the first time. Then her eyes locked onto his and...  
  
_'It's almost as if she doesn't know me.'_  
  
Talia blinked. _'Right...Logan...mutant....present....the past is gone....deep on!'_  
  
"You OK?"  
  
"Just fine...Logan....we should get back."  
  
Logan moved back some as she stood. He grabbed her by the arm as she tried to pass him, and she looked up at him in question.  
  
"Do you....uh...see anything....when you...die?" It wasn't really what he wanted to ask her but it was what came out of his mouth.  
  
Talia smiled. "I don't know...what do you think I should be looking for?" She stepped closer to him.  
  
Logan's brow furrowed before blurting, "Uh...tunnel....white light....music ....or something like that." He shrugged. Her scent was heady in his nostrils; she was so close that, at the moment, he didn't care all that much what the answer was....or even if he got one. However, when she responded, he wished he hadn't.  
  
"I will tell you." She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "...I do not worry about what I see when I am dead....I spend far too much effort on avoiding what I see while I am alive."  
  
"And am I included in that?" he bristled at the assumed snub. Not that he hadn't been rejected before but it did not mean that he had to like it.  
  
Her expression further confused him. "No....I was....never mind." She shook her head. "I should get back." As she pulled back, she glanced briefly at him and then left the room.  
  
Logan looked back at the pool of blood on the floor.  
  
...................................................................................................................................................................  
  
"Where is Nadya?" MacLeod asked as the room filled a while later.  
  
Methos quipped, "Probably with Talia." His eyes moved over to the young Russian, who looked a bit on edge. _'Oh, this is going to get interesting...I can feel it.'_ Methos kept the smile at bay and fingered his bottle of beer. He took a pull as Logan entered the room.  
  
The man glared at him.  
  
_'Yes, definitely interesting.'_  
  
But, this time, he didn't have to fight back a smile. Logan's glare at him cut off as Talia entered the room. Her black hair damp and pulled up, held in place by two pins, some falling at her shoulders. A pair of blue jeans and a large burgundy sweater....  
  
_'Hey, that's mine!'_ Methos glared at her.  
  
Talia smiled widely at him.  
  
He found himself returning it, glad to feel the rift closing between them. Talia moved sat on the wide stone railing again.  
  
Logan felt his claws want to come out at the smile she had given the ancient....given that....that... He swallowed a growl that wanted to emit, annoyed that she would be nice to Methos. When she moved by, he caught her scent. Hers and... Logan swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. He could smell Methos all over her! The two scents intertwined.  
  
_'How could I have missed something like that?!'_ His nostrils flared.  
  
Talia noted Logan's expression and tried to catch his eye, but he ignored her. Then she realized MacLeod was talking to her.  
  
"Sorry, what?"  
  
"Where is Nadya?" the Scot asked again.  
  
Talia suddenly felt very cold. She closed her eyes. Nothing. _'Nadya, where are you?'_ Talia could sense other immortals far off...even pre-immortals like Nadya, but there was nothing there at the moment. She tried to think of when the last time she felt her had been. But couldn't recall.  
  
_'Last time I saw her, she was here.'_ Talia's fists clenched....and now Duncan was saying something.  
  
"I don't know!" She realized she had yelled, but didn't care and they had agreed not to tell the others about Nadya being a pre-immortal. Talia shook her head.  
  
"The last time I saw her was here before she left." The eldest Immortal gestured about the room, hoping Methos and Mac would catch on that she could not feel the girl either.  
  
Duncan frowned.  
  
Methos spoke up. "She was here about two...three hours ago," he said, peeling the label from his beer bottle, not letting the stress show in his voice.  
  
"Where?" Duncan asked.  
  
"Out in the garden." Methos looked at Piotr. He though he saw a blush, barely, as he asked in flawless Russian, "_Etah byla proshlyem razom kagdah v veedyelee eyeh?_ (Was that the last time you saw her?)" He kept the emotion from his voice.  
  
Piotr stood, his stance defensive. "_Yah neekagda nye travmeeroval by eyeh!_ (I would never hurt her!)" His fists clenched but he kept his armor from engaging.  
  
"_Neekagda nye ochen dolgaye vryemyah._ (Never is a very long time.)" Then the old man switched back to English.  
  
"But I didn't ask you that. I asked if that was the last time you saw her."  
  
"Yes." Piotr answered tersely.  
  
Methos nodded.  
  
"What are you suggesting?" Scott asked defensively, standing.  
  
Methos sighed and set down the beer bottle. "I was trying to be sure of the last time Nadya was seen." He held his hands up in resignation.  
  
Ororo looked to the professor and asked, "Can you sense her?"  
  
"At the moment, no. But if I were to get away from...the stress in this room, I might be able to." Charles looked at Scott and then at Piotr.  
  
"Would you?" Joe asked from his seat.  
  
Charles nodded but was interrupted.  
  
"What....how was Nadya when you saw her?" Duncan approached Piotr.  
  
The youth took a step back, feeling threatened, and his armor covered his body.  
  
Duncan stopped. "I'm nay after harm nor fight, lad, but when did ye see her last?" He realized he was upset as he heard the brogue in his voice. "How was she?" He forced his voice to level.  
  
"Piotr, calm down, please." Ororo said, trying to hang onto her own temper.  
  
Suddenly, a loud crashing sound split the tension in the room, followed by a loud, even voice!  
  
"Now that I have your attention!" Methos let his voice borderline a snarl. The remains of a half-empty beer bottle lay shattered against the far wall. "Nadya is missing. This...argument...can wait."  
  
"And why should we listen to you?! This is your fault...you attacked us! And they call us monsters!" Logan yelled back.  
  
"Duncan, she might have taken one of the horses....I would have heard if she took a car. And I don't think she would have set off on foot." Talia stood, running a hand though her hair. "Methos, if you could take my car and head into town, we can start looking there, too."  
  
The room was quiet in response to her words. Talia looked about at everyone. Then she sort of gave a little laugh.  
  
"What? You want me to join in the argument as well? To argue who is the guilty party? Sorry....I am far to old for that! Methos is, too....but he won't admit it. Too old and tired to play games. My friend is missing! And, frankly, the future of our two species can go to ruin....I hold her life in more value than any peace we could reach."  
  
"How long will it be before they come after you, too?" Charles voiced the question that everyone had been thinking for hours. He was hoping to salvage the situation that the flaring tempers had created.  
  
He had asked Talia this but got his answer from the tall man in the baggy grey sweater and faded blue jeans.  
  
"Ever been burned at a stake?" Methos smiled sardonically. "No? Stoned? How about drowned?" He articulated carefully what he was saying, his smile falling, and leaned forward in his chair before leaping up out of it.  
  
"Ever been beaten.....tortured?! Have you ever died so many times that you prayed that the stupid creatures that were calling you a demon would get lucky and cut off your head so the pain would stop?!"  
  
With that, Methos turned and walked to the door, pausing before leaving. "And have you ever wondered...are they right? The worst part is, it will happen again....given enough time, enough provocation. We will be hunted and tortured all over again. History cycles; not directly, never in perfect repeats, but like stupid fashion crazes keep coming back, history will repeat itself. And then.....then I **will be** the monster they need me to be." Without another word, he left the room. 


	9. 8

**Chapter 8**  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
The sun burned down through a clear sky, reflecting off green leaves, and the wind whispered through the French countryside an hour's ride and half an hour's walk away from the villa. But today, nature held no comfort. A white horse raised his proud head and pricked his ears at the sound of a scream rippling over the hill. Then another and another.  
  
Nadya fell to her knees in the sun-warmed grass, her head bowed to the earth. Hot tears watered the ground and sadness wracked her body as she screamed out her frustration.  
  
"I understand...but I don't. It makes me so physically sick to watch them do this to themselves. To torture themselves like this! And there's nothing I can say! Nothing!" She sat up, the blood rushing back down from her head as she spoke to the sky.  
  
"I was happy! I am happy! Why should I feel guilty because I am at peace with being who I am, with what I am? Why should I feel awful because they can't seem to be content?" But her anger dissipated as quickly as her tears; she wasn't angry with them. She was angry with herself; she just didn't understand.  
  
Shadowfax--a horse named for a beloved story--ambled over to where the girl sat, his nose touching her shoulder.  
  
"I don't understand, Shadowfax. I just don't understand. I want to help but I can't; everything I say just seems to drive it deeper, make them hurt more. It's beyond me and that hurts more than anything. But it's not about me and I'm so sick of it when it turns around to be about me; I make such dumb mistakes and say the wrong things at the wrong time. I'm tired of being self-centered. I just can't seem to help my friends." She was honestly in pain; her hand clutched at her heart because it hurt so much.  
  
The intelligent animal nickered quietly and stepped away, knowing that he had nothing she needed aside from a presence. The wind pulled at her hair, making her eyes tear more, blurring the lines of the countryside. But, again, it held no comfort.  
  
_'Mama...I miss you. I need you right now. I need your help; what am I doing here?'_ But there was no reply, no gentle hand on her cheek, no quiet voice with an answer for her heart.  
  
Shadowfax again moved towards Nadya, lowering himself to curl his long legs beneath him and lie next to her on the grass. The horse just lay there, his side against hers, for no other reason than to comfort if at all possible.  
  
........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
"Professor, can you feel where she is?" Piotr asked, shedding his armor mutation.  
  
Charles looked at the younger man then closed his eyes and focused. It took a few minutes, but then Xavier nodded.  
  
"She is west of here.....a good hour's ride," he replied.  
  
"And why should we help them?" Logan asked. He had sat down as the immortals had left the room to search for their friend. They all had gotten quiet after Methos' outburst, somewhat calmer. Logan, however, was loath to let go of any of his emotions, and right now he had a lot of them.  
  
Charles closed off his mind but not before detecting a hint of jealousy. Piotr, of course, was awash with pain, anger, and, to his credit, concern. Not to mention youthful…infatuation. Scott and Ororo were also stressed as well as angry.  
  
_'And me? Well, I could use a long rest when this is all overwith.'_ Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose. Then he felt the sensation of amusement...particularly when a person wants very much to laugh but holds back. Charles turned back to find Joe Dawson still seated in his chair.  
  
"And why did you not help the others look?" Charles asked tersely.  
  
"Someone's got to wait here in case she comes back. Besides," Joe tapped a leg with his cane. "I'm only good for so much."  
  
"Why are you here exactly?" Scott asked, arms crossed over his chest. "What part do you play in all of this...."  
  
"...mess?" Joe offered. A large grin split his face, pulling at the salt and pepper of his short beard.  
  
"Something funny, bub?" Logan growled.  
  
"Yeah...actually, lots."  
  
Logan cocked his head to the side and glared at the man to continue.  
  
Joe complied. "This whole situation is one big barrel of laughs. We've got two groups of people who hate each other and yet have a common enemy, and, on top of that, we have the possibility of a Romeo and Juliet story...though, hopefully, not with that bad an ending." Joe chuckled, pointing to Piotr who this time did blush.  
  
"Add to that the fact that we have got you and Methos at each other's throats," Joe looked back at Logan. "While Talia is having fun playing with the children--perhaps a little too much fun." He looked at Logan again.  
  
Snickt The claws extended.  
  
"Apparently, she isn't the only one." Joe laughed, not at all intimidated. "And, of course, there's MacLeod trying to play the boy scout or clan chieftain for the immortal race again. While the two of you try for the same for your people." The Watcher gestured to the Professor and Scott.  
  
"What about me?" Ororo asked half-heartedly.  
  
"You're there to look pretty.....like me." Joe smiled and leaned back in his chair smugly. Ororo actually laughed.  
  
"Those were very intuitive statements, Mr. Dawson." Professor Xavier commented.  
  
"Part of my job."  
  
The Professor raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I'm a Watcher. MacLeod's Watcher to be specific. It's what I do: I watch them."  
  
"Watch them what?" Scott asked.  
  
"Live," was Joe's reply. "Observe and record....never interfere." He smirked at the last part. "Of course, I forget that oath, from time to "  
  
"You're very resourceful and observant," said Charles.  
  
"For a mere mortal...or should I add for a mere human to that?"  
  
"I was not trying to...." Charles began to salvage once more.  
  
"Neither was I." Joe saved the day. "You know what the whole problem with this is? Besides your friend over there who doesn't seem to understand the concept of forgive and forget?"  
  
Logan growled.  
  
Joe met him eye to eye. "I've seen worse, pal. You wanna cut off my arm? Go ahead. I'll get a prosthetic for that, too." He then shook his head and returned his attention to Xavier.  
  
"When I look at him," Joe pointed to Piotr, "And Nadya, all I see is a guy and a girl doing the same thing that kids have been doing for a long time. And that is all I see. 'Cause that is all that is important. And don't you think I am going to let what you are stop me from beating you good if you so much as even think about hurting her." Joe finished, pointing his cane at the Russian.  
  
Piotr swallowed and nodded.  
  
"Well-spoken words, Mr. Dawson, but carrying them out is another matter." Charles sighed.  
  
"So start. Wipe the slate clean, before it gets too dirty to do so." Joe replied.  
  
"If you think I am going to be nice to that...that..." Logan stood, snarling and pointing in the direction that Methos had gone.  
  
"Man." Talia finished from the doorway.  
  
Logan turned to her.  
  
"Just like I am a woman...unless you want to contest that statement."  
  
Logan shook his head and retracted his claws.  
  
"Good. And I do hope you weren't planning on hurting my friend." Talia looked from him to Joe and back.  
  
Logan crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought you found threats to be a waste of time."  
  
"Who said I would do anything?" Talia looked to Joe then back to Logan again, who grimaced.  
  
The combined scent on her was annoying him.  
  
She turned to the Professor and spoke. "You said earlier that you might be able to find her...." she trailed off.  
  
"I already have." Charles motioned to Piotr, sending him a mental picture of the place. "He will help you to find her."  
  
Talia stood and looked Piotr over. "Thank you." She then turned to go.  
  
"When do you think you will be back?" Charles asked as she neared the doorway.  
  
"Will there be something to come back to?" Talia turned about again.  
  
"I should hope so."  
  
"Give us a few hours." Talia revolved again and left, a huge smile playing over her face.  
  
Piotr followed.  
  
So did Ororo.  
  
"Storm, where are you going?!" Scott demanded.  
  
The white-tressed 'weather witch' half-turned her head to him again. "I'm going to help them."  
  
"Why?" Logan questioned.  
  
"Because Nadya is my friend, too." With that, she walked out onto the balcony and rose into the air.  
  
As the Immortals were just about to leave, Storm hovered down over the Land Rover.  
  
"What do you want?" Methos snapped, pausing with his hand on the open car door.  
  
"I want to help you. I want to help Nadya."  
  
Talia smiled up at Ororo. "You can fly?"  
  
Ororo seemed a little taken aback but then realized that she had not flown since meeting the Immortals. "Yes, I can."  
  
"Good, take this!" Talia tossed her a walkie-talkie. "Apparently, the Professor has given Piotr here an image of what the place looks like. We'll describe and you scout ahead, deal?"  
  
Ororo's mouth curled up a little and her ice-blue eyes twinkled. "Deal." Then she rose into the sky and headed off, following the sun's westward path.  
  
..........................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
The hour grew late and the sun's warmth was giving way to evening's cool. Nadya lay on the grass, her eyes closed, her breathing slow. She was asleep. Completely exhausted from her tears, every reservoir of emotion drained, she'd lain down on the grass by Shadowfax and fallen asleep. The warmth of the horse's side and his strong breaths lulled her to sleep, into a place where dreams hovered on the edges. A place of just...quiet.  
  
A slim brown hand pushed aside the tall grass, a small foot flattening the blades. A barefoot child moved stealthily through the grass towards the sleeping figure, pausing at every change of breath. No, she still slept. The child crept closer until she stood at the young woman's side.  
  
"Mama?" She reached out a hand, almost touching the woman's cheek. Green-hazel eyes smiled quietly. "Mama?" she whispered again as the woman's eyes began to open. "Wake up..."  
  
"Wake up...wake up, dear."  
  
Nadya's eyes slowly focused on the owner of the voice above her. Soft, almost familiar. "Mama?" For a moment, for one glorious moment, she thought...  
  
"No, dear. It is me," the voice replied, "Ororo."  
  
Nadya finally opened her eyes, the blurs snapping into concrete lines and colors, the most powerful of those the shock of Storm's white hair and the ice of her eyes. But the ice melted, crystal blue pools, calm like the sea after a tempest.  
  
Ororo sat next to Nadya. Shadowfax lifted his head and snorted at her new scent.  
  
A small hand on his proud neck stilled him. "It's all right, Shadowfax."  
  
Ororo smiled. "He is a very smart animal."  
  
Nadya sat up slowly, nodding. "Shadowfax takes care of me."  
  
There was silence for a while and then Ororo spoke again. "Why did you run away?"  
  
Silence. Only the wind in the trees.  
  
"Have you ever straddled the line, Ororo?" Nadya lifted her head to look at the woman. "Ever stood on both sides and none at the same time? That's where I am, and I don't know how to make it all fit. I feel as though I missed something important along the way, but what it is, I don't know." She looked away over the countryside.  
  
Ororo was silent. What burdens did this young woman carry? What weighed her heart so heavily? "Nadya," Ororo turned her friend's face back to her. "You are guilty of nothing but that same offense as your friend Methos. You are human. We are none of us perfect. None of us with all the answers…no matter how we may wish it. Even at 22, you are still learning, my friend. You are still growing."  
  
"Sometimes..." Nadya pulled up several blades of grass, laying them in a weave pattern, "Sometimes I just miss my mother."  
  
Ororo leaned forward and drew the young woman into her arms. "She would be proud of you. She gave her daughter the greatest gift a mother can: a simple heart."  
  
The two friends sat in silence for a while, just being. Suddenly, a walkie-talkie crackled between them. "Ororo?"  
  
Releasing Nadya, Ororo picked up the walkie-talkie. "I found her, Talia."  
  
"Good. We will be there in a few."  
  
Nadya looked at Ororo. "I want so desperately for this to work. The last thing the world needs is three species at each other's throats. And, honestly, I'm afraid that both mutants and Immortals would lose such a battle. I fear for you all."  
  
Storm touched her friend's hair gently, a wise smile curling her lips. "Do not fear for us, Nadya. Live each day, love us, and mend."  
  
Just then, Shadowfax lifted his head, snorted again, and rose quickly to his feet, his ears pricked. In a moment, the Land Rover entered the clearing.  
  
"Nadya!" Duncan jumped out as soon as it stopped. "Nadya, what are you doing here?"  
  
She held up her hand. "Can we...not now?"  
  
Talia nodded from her place half-in, half-out the driver's side door. "It can wait."  
  
Nadya then saw that Piotr was also in the Land Rover. She didn't say anything, though, and neither did he.  
  
Methos moved towards Shadowfax. "Nadya, you ride with the others. I'll ride him back."  
  
But Shadowfax stepped back as Methos reached for his reins, snorting.  
  
"You do not ride Shadowfax, Methos. Either he will bear you or he won't." Nadya said to the ancient. In truth, the animal was more like his fictional counterpart than anyone could guess.  
  
Methos raised his brows in question. "Oh, really?" Then he turned to the horse, moving towards him again. "So, how about it, old man?"  
  
Shadowfax regarded him with large, rolling eyes for a moment and then bowed his head with a snort.  
  
A smile pulled at the sides of Nadya's mouth. "He says yes."  
  
Then she moved towards the Land Rover. Duncan moved into the backseat with Piotr and Nadya sat up front with Talia. The eldest Immortal threw the SUV into gear and turned about, heading for the villa again. The car was silent. When they were gone, Methos swung up into Shadowfax's saddle, glancing at Storm who hovered in the air above him. Then he glanced down again, gathering up the reins.  
  
"What did she say?"  
  
Storm looked down at him, silent for a moment. "It can wait," was her only answer before she glided off into the gathering dark of the sky. 


	10. 9

**Chapter 9**  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"I always wanted to fly." Talia said, her left hand resting on the steering wheel. The others had already piled out of the vehicle.  
  
Duncan looked back at her incredulously.  
  
"Well, I did." She crossed her arms defensively and looked up to watch Ororo circle the villa and dip behind the other side. _'Not bloody fair.'_ Talia smirked.  
  
Nadya proceeded ahead of the others into the house. Duncan called after her but she kept moving. Now was not the time.  
  
Piotr stuck his hands into his pockets, his shoulders heaving a sigh as he followed after the pair.  
  
Talia ran a hand up to her hair and pulled the pins out, letting it fall down past her shoulders. When she looked up, she saw Logan waiting at the door. "He looks rather mad...oh...right...Methos didn't come back with us…bet he thinks he is going to leave....oh, great, he's coming over...strange, he doesn't really walk...he strides...or stalks...you always had a thing for predators...you should know better, behaving like a pre-adolescent....stop talking to yourself!" Talia shook her head.  
  
"Where is he?" Logan put one hand up on the roof of the SUV. He was doing his best to be intimidating.  
  
Talia looked in the back seat…then bent down and looked under her seat...then opened the glove compartment. "Spontaneous combustion," she concluded when she looked back up, "The only possible explanation." Then, she batted her eyes sweetly. "May I leave the car now...please?"  
  
"I asked you a question." Logan laced anger into his voice.  
  
Talia sighed. "And I did not give you an answer." She met his glare.  
  
"I've got all the time in the world." He put both arms up on the roof and rested his head on them, still glaring at her.  
  
Talia rolled down the window the rest of the way. "Perhaps you do. I know I do. But a lot of the others inside don't, so..." Talia knelt on the seat and put her face up into Logan's.  
  
He jerked his head back reflexively at the quick motion and Talia, having gotten room to maneuver, stuck the upper part of her torso out the window. She paused, then placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself and moved the rest of her body out through the window.  
  
Logan still had his hands planted on the roof. As she planted both feet on the ground, he grabbed her by the upper arms and held her from moving any farther.  
  
"He's behind you."  
  
Logan balked but a moment after his hearing picked up the pounding of horse's hooves in the distance. "How did you know?"  
  
"We can sense each other coming...a suffocating presence all around you...chills down the back of the spine...someone walking over your grave. Like that." Talia smiled at him mischievously and leaned in closer. "It gets stronger with age...what was wrong earlier?" She changed subject mid-sentence, catching him off-guard.  
  
"Nothing." His hands released her and he walked over to the side of the driveway where there was a view of the hillside. His eyes focused on the direction of the hoof beats and a moment later he saw the horse and rider break over the top at full gallop.  
  
Methos felt the pounding of the Shadowfax's hooves on the ground under him. Memories wanted to surface, far to many memories, but he kept them at bay. Instead he focused on absorbing this memory into his mind. The trees as they raced by. The trembling in his legs. The feeling of the horse's powerful muscles moving under him. And, of course, the saddle made all the difference in the world. Part of his mind picked up on Talia's Quickening and he nudged Shadowfax towards it.  
  
The horse was more than happy to comply; this rider was one of the better ones. Completely at ease. He barely even held onto the reins. They crested the hill that the villa was built on, charging at full gallop towards Talia...  
  
_'...and the Wolverine...just great!'_ Methos leaned back in the saddle, causing Shadowfax to skid to a stop, the horse pulling back and his front hooves leaving the ground. Methos leaned forward into the motion then back as they came back down. He then looked to Logan.  
  
"Back again in the same day?" Logan crossed his arms over his chest, and Methos responded with a nod and a smirk.  
  
Then he held out a hand to Talia. She smiled up at him and allowed herself to be pulled up behind him. Methos caught the narrowing of the other man's eyes.  
  
'So that's how it is.' Methos smiled again, purposefully directing it to irk Logan; then they took off at a light canter to the stable.  
  
Logan watched till they rounded the villa and dropped out of view. Then his hand shot out and slammed into a nearby tree! He turned and stalked back to the villa. The tree started to bleed, three small trails of sap coursing down its bark by the time the door slammed shut behind the mutant.  
  
.....................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Nadya strode through the halls of the grand villa, just wanting to be alone and shunning any room with people in it. As she entered the atrium at the back of the house, the coolness of the room washed over her and she closed her eyes for a moment.  
  
"Are you alright?" A gentle voice with the lull of Britain laced on its edges. The whir of mechanical wheels echoed through the marble room.  
  
Nadya didn't answer; she didn't want to. She just stepped further on into the atrium, trying to give him a hint.  
  
"Why do you stay with them, Nadya?" The Professor wasn't giving up. He wanted to know her story, why she was here. He understood Joe Dawson's position, but hers...? What part did she play?  
  
"Why do you stay with THEM, Professor?" she turned the question back on him.  
  
"Because they are my students, my...children." Professor Xavier replied quietly.  
  
Nadya half turned. "These Immortals are the only family I have."  
  
"But surely you have friends who are not Immortal?"  
  
"Surely you have friends who are not mutants." It wasn't a game; it was an honest reckoning of situations.  
  
"If you want to know me so badly, search me. Probe my thoughts, if you have a 'mind' to!"  
  
"I won't..."  
  
"...abuse your powers, I know. It's not abuse if I give you permission, is it?" she questioned, moving towards him slowly.  
  
This gave the Professor pause.  
  
.......................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Shadowfax opened his mouth and let the bridle bit drop from his jaws, shaking his head as Methos patted his neck.  
  
"She'll want to groom him, I'm sure." Talia looked down from the horse's back where she still sat.  
  
Methos shook his head vaguely, still running his hand over the white animal's neck. "I'll do it." He wanted to say something to Talia, to ask if she noticed...but he knew she had.  
  
"Why did she run away?" he asked a different question instead.  
  
Talia shrugged. "She didn't say. I didn't ask." She shifted her weight on the horse's back. "We all have secrets, Methos. We all have demons. So does Nadya."  
  
Methos shook his head again, taking up a dandy brush and beginning to slowly brush Shadowfax's mane. The horse flinched, unused to those other than the small hands of his mistress, but he felt no danger in Methos' touch and so relaxed.  
  
"She's so young...too young to have demons," the ancient mused.  
  
"I might say the same of you," replied the eldest. "But, then, I know better."  
  
Methos' eyes narrowed. He didn't want to think about that again, but it rose unbidden. A small boy with glasses...in his pajamas, standing in a darkened hallway....a hesitant "Hi." Then silence, the child's body lying limp on the floor.  
He blinked hard to clear his head, shooing the thoughts away. He'd deal with his own doings, thanks. He didn't need someone else dragging them up.  
  
"It makes you wonder," Talia slid from the horse's back and stepped out of the stall. "Could we be the demons?"  
  
"No more than anyone else has the capacity to be.....we just have longer to...perfect it," Methos answered, resting his head on the horse's neck, the smell filling his nostrils. "Do you think we are?" he asked as he looked over at her.  
  
She ran a hand through her black hair and began to put it back up. His sweater looked nice on her.  
  
'Why do women always look good in everything?'  
  
"'No' to your question, but 'yes' to my own." Then she stuck her flute into her hair next to the pins that held it in place. "But you knew that already, didn't you?" She said as she left.  
  
..............................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Ororo met Scott and a very angry Logan in the upstairs hallway. Well, Logan actually brushed pass the two with his eyes fixed dead ahead, not acknowledging their presence. The door to his room slammed shut.  
  
"Well then." Ororo said.  
  
"Yeah." Scott added as the two turned to head downstairs when his door opened again unexpectedly.  
  
"I need a beer." He brushed past them again.  
  
The two proceeded down the stairs quickly left behind by Logan. They were talking about how much time this was going to take, while admiring the art and style of the villa. They paused when they entered the room where Logan and Talia had fought earlier, though there were no remains of the earlier fight as Talia had wiped up her blood.  
  
Instead, they met Duncan as he moved through the last stages of his kata.  
  
Duncan, though not as possessive with his sword as before the death of Richie Ryan, still practiced with it. Old habits die hard. He focused not on invisible opponents and possible scenarios as his body moved through the long memorized motions. Instead, he sought to clear his mind. To place his whole being into the weapon in his hands. Know nothing, be nothing more than the steel as it cut through the air of the room. A lazy, double-handed arch over his body and down to the left quickened into a single-handed outward thrust. Breath in. Breath out. Circle round. Slash across.  
  
The dance came to a halt with the blade upright in front of him. Brown eyes opened to see that he had an audience. He smiled at the two and moved over to grab a towel to wipe off his chest and neck.  
  
"I would have expected a claymore for a Scot." Ororo commented, her eyes playing over more than just the katana that MacLeod held. He lifted it up for them to see then held it out to Ororo to examine.  
  
"I studied under Hideo Koto, a Japanese samurai. He taught me everything he knew before he...gave me this." Duncan said softly.  
  
"He just gave it to you?" she questioned, noting the pause. His sad smile confirmed there was more to the story.  
  
"He died. It was his last gift to me."  
  
"I am sorry," she apologized as she handed it back to him.  
  
"You looked as though you have been doing that a while." Scott commented.  
  
Duncan smiled that smile. "Since 1778, a little over two hundred years. Some things you don't forget."  
  
"That's a long time." Scott said.  
  
"That it is." Duncan nodded. "If you will excuse me, I'm going to go wash up." He headed to the door with his towel. "I think Talia was going to try to cook something later, or you may raid the fridge if you want," he offered.  
  
"Thank you." Scott replied as he left them.  
  
"An amazing piece of work." Ororo breathed.  
  
Scott nodded. "A weapon of that caliber is rare," he agreed.  
  
"What? Oh. Yes....the sword." Ororo nodded and then headed for the kitchen.  
  
Scott stared after her, wondering if that meant what he thought it did. Shaking his head, he followed her.  
  
............................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Logan popped the top off the beer just as the side door opened and Talia stepped through.  
  
"By all means, help yourself." She smirked as he paused in mid-gulp.  
  
"Thought I could, but if you want it back..." Logan held out the partially consumed drink.  
  
Talia wrinkled her nose and shook her head as she stepped past him to remove some food for the evening meal. "I hate the stuff," she said, placing some vegetables on the butcher's block that was part of the kitchen's island counter.  
  
"Which, of course, explains why you have three cases of the "stuff" in your fridge." Logan stated, taking another pull.  
  
"Those are for Methos." She shut the door, a bottle of vodka held in her hand. "This is my poison." She grabbed a small glass and poured.  
  
"So is he gonna get ticked with me stealing his beer?" Logan leaned against the opposite counter watching her take a sip from the glass.  
  
"I paid for it....and he steals from everyone else.....if he complains, ignore him." She smiled at him, blue eyes dancing at him as she raised the glass and knocked back what was left of the clear liquid.  
  
"Is that so?" Logan questioned, his eyes taking in the woman in front of him. The faded blue jeans, full-length this time, the baggy burgundy sweater over slight frame. Black hair pinned up and....  
  
_'Flute?'_  
  
"You play?" He gestured to the object in her hair. Pause.  
  
Talia raised a hand and pulled it out. "When I am in the mood." She stuck it into her pocket. "Ever think you will forgive Methos?"  
  
"That's changing the subject." Logan finished the drink and tossed it in the trash bin.  
  
"Fine then, how about answering the earlier questions?" Talia placed the vegetables in a colander in the sink to clean them. She pushed the sleeves up over her elbows.  
  
"Nothing was...is wrong." Logan answered but the breath he took in to say it brought even more of Methos' scent into his nose, making him want to break something. The look the other man had given as he pulled Talia up behind him onto the horse had only added to the problem.  
  
"Really?"  
  
Logan felt water droplets strike his face as she flicked them at him.  
  
"You lie poorly. But ...so be it." Talia went back to washing the produce.  
  
"So be it?" Logan snorted. Talia arched an eyebrow at him. "Nobody talks like that anymore...so be what?" He crossed his arms.  
  
Talia shrugged. "I do. And if you refuse to talk about whatever it is that is bothering you, then there is nothing that I can do. Period."  
  
"And what would you do?" he asked.  
  
"There can be no forward motion. Everything grinds to a halt. No growth, change, continuation. Life becomes stagnant. Without communication, there is nothing We stay as we are."  
  
Logan took on a puzzled look.  
  
"Secrets and lies kill," she finished softly.  
  
The ensuing silence carried on the only sound that of the running water filling the sink. Talia started out of her reverie a moment later and shut it off. Logan was about to ask a question when the door opened and Methos stepped into the room.  
  
"Hello." He moved, taking the long way around and pulled himself a beer from the refrigerator. "Did you start drinking beer?" His head shot up at seeing the empty spot in his beer inventory and his eye went to Talia.  
  
She pointed to Logan.  
  
"Oh."  
  
Logan shrugged but allowed a small smirk to his lips, more from defiance to Methos than anything else.  
  
Methos masked his face and contemplated grabbing one of Nadya's V8 Splashes out of fridge, but he decided not to let Logan see that he was annoying him.  
  
Talia continued with washing and chopping the vegetables, leaving the men to their silent battle.  
  
Logan decided that he wanted Methos to go away. "Shouldn't you be off looking for...what's her name? The little girl?"  
  
Methos swallowed his mouthful of beer and raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"  
  
Logan affected indifference and shrugged. "Hey, it just looked to me like you and the girl are kinda close. I'm surprised you ain't chasing _'her'_ all over the house like you did all over the countryside." The Wolverine felt a sort of malicious glee at pricking at Methos, even sans his claws.  
  
Methos felt his face heat angrily and left the room without a word.  
  
Logan smiled to himself, his back to Talia, before turning around, the indifference in place again. "What's eatin' him?"  
  
But he found a large butcher's knife pointed at him. "Get out."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said, 'get out'! You've got a set on you to speak of Nadya like that!" the small woman snarled. He hadn't heard her use that tone of voice since Le Blues. "You don't know her, so don't you dare bring her into your vengeful world. I don't mind you playing games with me...but you leave my friends alone."  
  
Logan honestly didn't know what to say as she stalked around the island to face him toe-to-toe.  
  
"And, in case you're wondering, now I AM threatening." The knifepoint was pricking his stomach.  
  
Logan left, in much the same manner as Methos had. 


	11. 10

**Chapter 10**  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Ororo wandered the grand library, gazing up at the books and paintings. Her azure-blue top held a fairy-tale look to the sleeves and fluttered with every breeze that wafted through the open windows.  
Wanting to see the top shelves, she rose into the air. Hovering, she pulled a book from a shelf, leaned back, crossed her legs, and began to read.  
  
Duncan stopped in the library's doorway, watching the lovely mutant. She was definitely a woman unlike any he had ever met before, Immortal or mortal. And the fact that she could control the weather was a fun idea, too.  
  
"Find anything interesting?" He made his presence known, stepping into the room.  
  
Ororo turned and smiled a little, replacing the book and gliding down to the floor. "Just some Dostoyevsky. One of my favorites."  
  
"Good author, strange man. Brilliant, but strange." Duncan commented, walking over to her.  
  
Ororo raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I knew him."  
  
"Oh, I see. Then you have the inside scoop then?" she chuckled.  
  
Duncan smiled and nodded, looking down at her.  
  
Ororo found herself just looking at him, being impressed with this man who was human...and yet not. He was dressed simply in a white sweater and dark-blue jeans, his dark hair still damp from the quick shower. A handsome man, that was undeniable...strong, personable, protective, willing to lead when others were not. She liked these things about him and the more she spent time with him, the more she was wanting this whole 'summit' to work out.  
  
...........................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Charles breathed deeply as his mind moved past some of the walls Nadya had built up. Not the deep walls he found on Logan; these were normal, a part of dealing with what happens to us. We do not even think of them as walls.  
  
He exhaled and moved through one. The memories of when she was younger were what he touched first. Flashes of Duncan, who appeared the same as he did today only with longer hair, smiling down on her before hefting her up into the air. This wall contained the memories of when she learned of her parents' death. He focused more on Duncan than the actual events, so as to spare her the extra-relived pain. He saw her graduate college..._'with honors nonetheless'_. Then he focused on a more recent memory: Duncan off in the distance..._'a park'_...going through the stages of a kata. Another man..._'Methos'_...sprawled out in the grass, talking to the Highlander. Nadya spoke to him...a stranger to her then. And his eyes looked down at her, a smile creasing his mouth.  
  
From there, the memories picked up speed. He saw Methos take a knife to the heart, felt her reaction to the thought of losing a friend. The pain. Then, the truth and more pain. Fear. Hope. Friendship. Tears. Xavier's mind struggled to sort though all the conflicting emotions, especially as he got closer to present day.  
  
He saw the man in question sitting in one of the gardens..._'Here'_, just watching time tick by, thinking who knows what. Then another flash! Piotr...and Nadya. Charles passed that one by, out of courtesy.  
  
Then he saw Logan with Talia, fighting...playing...blood. Then a white horse, the feeling of its hooves pounding on the ground, the wind striking her face.  
  
Then, suddenly, Charles felt a sense of shock and rage permeate the room, his attention immediately drawn to it. Keeping his own skills in check was not easy...which is why he always did probes of this depth with only the other person in the room. Without Cerebro, the focus did not reach as far but the mind was prone to wander if focus was lost. Like it did now. Attracted to the strong emotion, inadvertently his mind latched onto it. Latched onto him.  
  
Methos.  
  
...............................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Just as soon as it started, it stopped. Cut off. Nadya put her hands to her head...not in pain, just a reflex. Her cheeks were wet. Tears but the pain was barely there. She sniffled, then looked to the Professor who was looking across the room at Methos. Both of the men appeared to be in a trance. Then it ended. This time, Xavier put a hand to his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
_'...and not only that but he has the nerve to drink my beer. I should have him hung, drawn, and quart....'_ Methos' train of thought stopped as he rounded the corner and saw....Nadya! He saw the tears on her cheeks and....and....  
  
Methos saw red for a moment--what was he doing to her?! But it lasted only a moment, for the next things he saw were the eyes of the man in the wheelchair. Then the world suddenly shifted to the left.  
  
Flashes...  
  
A mansion....in the countryside...old....people reciting poetry...while another man looked on from a sprawl on a fainting couch. Charles caught Methos' mind, recognizing the scenes.  
  
_'Byron...with the Shelleys....way too much laudinum....'_  
  
The scene fast forwarded...to the challenge and the Quickening....Mary Shelley's reaction...monster...The beginning of a legend.  
Then, the ground shifted again. A bar...back in the States...a waitress. _'Alexa.'_ Pain...Greece...Santorini...then Switzerland...then..._'Cold.'_  
  
Charles saw and felt the ancient's first meeting with the Highlander and the offering he made later. The feeling of a sword at his ..._'my'_ throat. A dagger striking his chest...and...  
  
_'Kronos!'_ The vision of the other man shifted from the black leather jacket to an older type of clothing.  
  
Finally, Charles was able to pull back. Too much! Too many years, too many lifetimes, too many memories!  
  
Methos dropped to the floor, holding his own head, his breath coming in gasps. His other hand was on the cold stone floor as he tried to re-orient himself. He felt two soft hands resting on his shoulders.  
  
_'Nadya.'_  
  
Then he felt her hand grasp his; his was shaking too hard to hold it, though.  
  
"I am so sorry," came Charles' voice.  
  
Methos looked up at the other man, whose hand was pressed to his own head as if in pain. The ancient suddenly felt very vulnerable.  
  
"Before you say anything, I told him he could." Nadya supplied. Her own tears had started to dry.  
  
"I should have suggested we move to a more secure room...this is my fault," Professor Xavier began.  
  
"Don't!" Methos managed to get out, hating the way his voice sounded: so weak and pitiful. "Just...don't." His voice sounded tired but strangely without the hateful reaction that Charles had expected and felt earlier.  
  
Silent, Charles wheeled from the room.  
  
Methos laid his head in Nadya's lap and shut his eyes while he tried to pull himself together.  
  
"Just rest, Methos," Nadya whispered, stroking his hair. Then she began to sing, quietly and as soothingly as she could. "Hush now, my baby...be still, love, don't cry...sleep as you're rocked by the stream. Sleep and remember my last lullaby, so I'll be with you when you dream." Even though it was low, her voice reverberated in the marble of the room, like that of an oracle. "River, O River. Flow gently for me, such precious cargo you bear. Do you know somewhere he can be free? River, deliver him there."  
  
She bent over him to see if his eyes were still closed, the dark curls of her hair falling over her shoulder and brushing the skin of his face.  
  
_'So soft...but can it last?'_ Methos' mind began to uncurl itself again. _'No, innocence can never last...it never does.'_  
  
Soft fingers replaced soft hair as she touched his cheek, feeling the tenseness in his jaws. "Relax, Methos. Let it go." Her fingers traced his cheekbones and jawline and Methos let himself fall into the touch, feeling just that, knowing just that.  
  
Suddenly, Methos felt something sting his eyes, something he had fought against for years. But, now, under Nadya's touch, he finally let it go. He finally cried.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Piotr sat on his bed, staring at the Van Gogh copy on the wall: Starry Night. One of his favorites. It always evoked a sense of romance and dreaming in him, to think of standing under such a night with a woman he loved.  
  
"Children's dreams!" he chastised himself, falling back on the bed. It gave beneath his strong frame with a creak and then bore him up again, the duvet cover wrapping around his body like a cloud. He could smell the aroma of delicious food wafting up from the kitchen downstairs as the stars began to show themselves outside.  
  
This place was beautiful, he reflected. Talia had wonderful taste in furniture. She chose mostly the older style, comfortable yet evoking a sense of history. If at all possible, that in the style of the Roman villa was what most suited her. She loved the openness of the architecture, to let in light and air, and the coolness of the marble and alabaster stone. That's why she had bought this place. Even Piotr found himself refreshed here, in some ways more than others.  
  
Reaching up and running his fingers through his dark hair, Piotr thought over the events of the day. The heated arguments, the anger, the... A smile, unbidden yet unchecked, curled his mouth as he thought of that one precious moment with Nadya. Her small form next to his, her hands held against his chest, her...a blush painted his cheeks as he relived the moment in his mind. But then she had pulled away.  
  
"Piotr?" A voice came at his cracked door.  
  
The young man jumped up to open the door. "Come in, Professor. Is everything all right?"  
  
Xavier nodded. "Oh, yes. I just have…a little headache. But I thought I would come to check on you," he replied as Piotr sat on the edge of the bed again. "What do you think of your first mission as an X-man?"  
  
Piotr sighed, his strong shoulders heaving. "It's not what I expected, sir, honestly."  
  
Xavier smiled slightly. "Did you expect more battles, as last year?"  
  
Piotr shrugged a little. "Well...da," was his reply.  
  
Xavier reached out and placed a hand on his student's shoulder. "Not all battles are fought with armor and weapons, my young friend."  
  
Piotr sighed again. "Sir, can I ask you something?"  
  
Xavier nodded. "Of course, Piotr."  
  
The young Russian hesitated and then, slowly, "Nadya and I...we...kissed."  
  
The Professor said nothing, didn't even smile. Just waited.  
  
"I really care for her, Professor. But this situation? Logan hates the Immortals...so does Scott, I'm sure. They don't trust us...how can I...can we...? The lad's voice trailed off, almost hopelessly.  
  
"Piotr, there is something you have to understand. I know what you feel for Nadya. And not because I read your mind. I know because I felt that once, lad. We all have. We are human; humans love…and, conversely, hate. But 'love covers a multitude of sins'. Unfortunately, not everyone believes that...or believes in it."  
  
Piotr looked up at the older man. "Then what hope is there? For mutants, for the world?"  
  
Professor Xavier. "There is always hope, son." Then, with a fatherly squeeze to Piotr's shoulder, the Professor whirred out of the room.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Duncan leaned down and stoked the fireplace, tossing another log in as the red-gold flames leaped up and licked at the wood.  
  
Ororo lowered herself into the comfortable, high-backed armchair and crossed her legs, smiling at the soft leather of the chair. "These must have cost a fortune," she murmured, running her hands over the arms of the chair.  
  
Duncan shook his head, sitting in the other one. "Not really. This library was the only contribution that Talia would let me make to the house," he chuckled. "She did everything else herself: the statuary, furniture, design of the house. But she picked some Monets because Nadya likes them, especially the garden scenes and the waterlilies."  
  
Ororo smiled. "That's nice of Talia to let you all have a part of this house."  
  
Duncan nodded. "We're the only family any of us has anymore."  
  
That caused Ororo to pause, to reflect on her own life with the X-men. Then she smiled, leaning her cheek upon the fingertips of her right hand. "Tell me, Mr. MacLeod, why aren't you married?"  
  
The highlander chuckled, folding his hands and leaning his lips on the steeple of his index fingers. "I thought the answer to that might be obvious."  
  
Ororo gave a little laugh herself. "I shouldn't think that would stop any woman with eyes to see."  
  
Duncan nodded, smiling still. "Thank you for the compliment. Might I ask the same of you, Ms. Monroe?"  
  
Ororo inclined her head, seeming to think but didn't answer right away. "No, no one."  
  
"How long have you lived with the professor, Ororo?"  
  
She smiled. "Forever...at least it feels that way. I have a sister and a nephew out there in the world somewhere but it might be a while before I see them again. But I will...someday."  
  
Duncan nodded, gazing at the 'weather witch'. She was a beautiful woman, intelligent, too. He appreciated her helping to find Nadya and he hurt because of the hostilities that stood between their two species at the moment. What was to be done? 


	12. 11

**Chapter 11**  
  
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"You should eat." Talia said, holding the plate of food out in offering to the seated figure.  
  
Nadya looked up at her from the chair in her room.  
  
"And don't use my cooking skills as an excuse....the others ate it and all of them are still alive," the older woman got out before Nadya could protest.  
  
"But they are mutants...and who knows what kind of healing powers the might have..." the girl trailed off half-heartedly.  
  
"Joe had seconds...no excuse. Eat." Talia set the plate down in front of her friend and then claimed the second chair for herself.  
  
"Talia..."  
  
The other cut her off. "You haven't eaten in a while. You will feel better once you do. It will help you handle things."  
  
"I did eat."  
  
"Breakfast...it's going on 9 now. I notice everything, especially stuff that affects my friends."  
  
Nadya shook her head but began to eat anyway. She soon found herself hungrier than she had thought.  
  
Talia let her eat for a while before beginning. "Now about what happened..."  
  
"I told the professor he could read my mind; that was my right to do if I wanted. I am sorry if you and everyone else don't like it, but I thought it would help." Nadya ended, laying her fork down.  
  
"Ok...I was going to ask about the Russian..." Talia trailed off.  
  
Nadya blushed and stammered. "Oh. Piotr...he...I...well..."  
  
Talia laughed softly, causing Nadya to lean forward and lay her head in her lap. "Why me?"  
  
"Because the Russian has good taste.....and I daresay you do, too." The older woman smiled. "He is nice, apparently, and concerned for you....especially when you disappeared."  
  
"I'm sorry." Nadya began but her friend shook her head.  
  
"It is all your business, Nadya. All of it. You owe me no explanations."  
  
"But what if everything here goes wrong? What if...."  
  
"What if in a thousand, in two thousand years, I look back on this as a bad memory....or as a good one? The players in it will almost all be dust a hundred times over, regardless of what was done here today...or what will come tomorrow." Talia leaned back in the chair. "Now, have you kissed him yet?"  
  
"Talia!"  
  
"Oh, that is most definitely a 'yes'."  
  
"Stop it!" Nadya laughed and threw a pillow at her friend, who ducked.  
  
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The klaxons blared!  
  
The children woke to the sound and rushed into the halls, their minds immediately thinking fire--desperately hoping for fire--because the last time the house had been thrown into upheaval still haunted their dreams.  
  
It wasn't a fire.  
  
It took them only five minutes to find him.  
  
"Kurt?! Kurt!!" Rogue rushed over and felt for a pulse through her gloved hands. Breathless seconds later she found one.  
  
"He's alive." She hugged herself as Bobby bent down and turned the older man over. There was a small pool of blood on the floor from a gash in his head but it didn't seem too severe.  
  
Kitty rushed into the hall gasping as she rounded the corner then froze. Bobby looked at her.  
  
"Is it safe?" he asked, jolting her out of the daze she had fallen into. A nod answered him  
  
"I checked the security room. Perimeter is secure, and the thermal sensors only show the students in the safe rooms were they should be. I don't know if it was a break-in...." Kitty paused and looked at Kurt again. "I guess it was...but...I..."  
  
"Kitty, it's alright. The sensors would show an intruder if he were still here." Bobby tried to comfort. And then he looked back to Kurt. "The two of you help me move him down to Med lab. Then, Rogue, you call the Professor and let him know what happened, and, Kitty, you go let the rest of the students know it's ok."  
  
Kitty nodded, but Rogue shook here head. "What did happen, Bobby?"  
  
"Good question. Hopefully, Kurt can answer it when he wakes up. For now, we have had an intruder who attacked Kurt."  
  
With that the trio hefted Kurt up and moved to the elevator the sub-level of the mansion, Kitty's abilities speeding up the trip considerably.  
  
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A world away, the Immortals and mutants at the villa had awakened to a glorious sunrise. Well, Talia had awakened to watch the sunrise, at least. The others had emerged from their rooms somewhat later, Logan being the first. He found Talia sitting in an overstuffed leather chair. An old dusty tome lay open on her lap, catching the early morning sun and illuminating the almost-there letters.  
  
Logan watched her read a bit, her brows occasionally knitting together in..... contemplation, confusion. Suddenly, the book was snapped shut and tossed unceremoniously to the floor.  
  
"Frustration." Logan's thoughts decided upon, just in time to meet the lady in question face to face.  
"You aren't carrying a knife now, are you?" he asked.  
  
A puzzled look was his answer.  
  
"No? Well, in that case, good morning," he said off-handedly and then sauntered over heading for the kitchen.  
  
A whisper of a response halted his tracks.  
"Sorry?"  
  
"If you had not been such...a jerk, I would not have done that. Nadya is a good...."  
  
Logan cut her off. "Hey, I know the kid is not a problem. She's about the only person here who isn't; I was just out to..." Logan sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck.  
  
Talia stepped closer, but he avoided her eyes. She raised a hand and drew it across his forehead, running her thumb over a dark eyebrow. Logan closed his eyes at the touch, breathing in her smell, like the first time he had: vanilla, ocean breezes...none of Methos! He inhaled again to be sure. The offending scent was gone; all he smelled was pure Talia. He opened his eyes and looked at her, almost wanting to ask.  
  
But his eyes opened to meet her closed ones, shut as if in thought as her fingers moved lightly over his face and cheek, tracing lines, a corner of her lip turned up in smile.  
  
"Forget about asking!"  
  
Logan lowered his head....  
  
"Scott! Storm! Logan!!!" The Professor's psychic blast caused Logan to start and look around for a person as usual. Talia tried to ask what was the matter but he hushed her.  
  
"It's the Professor...hang on a sec." Logan stilled as Talia watched him. She saw the rage spreading across his face. Suddenly, he rushed from the room before she could find out what was the matter.  
  
........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Piotr leapt from his bed at the call, his heavy footfalls thudding along the hallway and staircase as he hurried for the professor's room. He found Scott, Storm, and Logan already there.  
  
"What happened? _Ktoh etahvah?_ ("Who was it?")" He lapsed into Russian.  
  
"We don't know, Piotr. However, Rogue says that Kurt is stable and resting. Thankfully, the wound was not deep."  
  
"We need to get back to the mansion." Scott insisted.  
  
"I agree with you, Scott. However, we cannot let things disintegrate here. That said, you, Logan, and I will return to the mansion to investigate."  
  
"But, Professor…" Storm began.  
  
Charles held up a hand. "Storm, we have two incidents that require our attention now: the mansion and this summit. Neither of which can be neglected for even a moment. You and Piotr will stay here and Scott, Logan, and I will return as soon as we can. But right now, the children need us."  
  
Discussion closed.  
  
Storm nodded, though she could feel Logan stiffen even more next to her. Obviously, he disagreed with the Professor's decision but he would not voice it.  
  
Meanwhile, downstairs, the Immortals and mortals had gathered in the kitchen, Nadya the last to arrive. "Where are the others? I haven't seen any of them this morning."  
  
Talia shrugged and concentrated on her coffee; she wasn't about to talk about the moment she had almost had with Logan. However, that was a 'tell' to Nadya that the eldest Immortal knew something, but the girl kept her mouth shut, too.  
  
Just then, Piotr entered the kitchen. "Nadya, can I talk to you for a moment, _pazhualstah_ (please)?"  
  
Joe smirked at Nadya from behind his coffee mug as the girl moved out into the hallway.  
  
"_Shtoh etah, Piotr?_ (What is it?)" she asked quietly.  
  
"Nadya, something's happened back at the mansion. A friend of ours was attacked; we think someone broke in and Kurt surprised them. The Professor, Logan, and Scott are heading back to New York to investigate. But Storm and I are staying here. I just…I just wanted you to know," his voice dropped off.  
  
Nadya felt something in her seize up, as she well knew what it was to be concerned for her friends. "Are you sure you won't go with them?"  
  
Piotr shook his head. "The Professor desires Storm and I to stay and continue the summit."  
  
Pity for him swelled over her; she saw how he wanted to be with his friends.  
  
"I have to go see the others off."  
  
"Do you want help?" came a deeper voice from behind Nadya. The highlander stood there, arms to his side. Joe stood beside him.  
  
The younger man didn't understand why he was offering and voiced it.  
  
"Because that's his nature." Joe supplied. "And count me in, too."  
  
With that, Piotr nodded and withdrew, heading down the hallway, the other two men trailing him  
When Nadya re-entered the kitchen, she saw instantly that Talia knew; the woman had excellent ears.  
  
"Is he all right?" she asked, having refilled her mug.  
  
"I...don't know," Nadya replied, sitting at the island again.  
  
Under the edge of the island, Methos reached over and touched her hand. He didn't grip it, just touched it with the tips of his fingers and then pulled his hand back again; just to let her know that he was there.  
  
Sighing deeply, Nadya put forth a smile for her friends and got up to get herself a plate of eggs and bacon.  
  
........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Shadowfax tossed his head, wondering if they were going out again.  
  
"No, boy. Not today." Nadya just ran her hand over his neck, brushing his mane. The great animal stomped one hoof placidly, accepting her 'no'.  
  
"Did I not do it right yesterday?"  
  
Methos leaned against a nearby stall, munching on an apple. Of course he was being facetious; he had groomed horses more times than she had combed her hair in her entire lifetime.  
  
Nadya glanced at him under the horse's neck. "You did fine but I just like to do it myself when I can." Her hair was caught up in a messy bun under a blue bandanna, the legs of her jeans rolled up and a lavender camisole clinging to her frame. The days had gotten strangely warmer here in the countryside. Shadowfax leaned his muzzle down to her shoulder and blew warm air onto her skin playfully.  
  
"That tickles!" Nadya gently pushed his head away, which was how their games always began, the horse snapping her rear end with his long tail. "Hey! Now that's un-called for!" she scolded.  
  
Shadowfax just nickered.  
  
Methos cocked his head to the side. "Is that horse flirting with you?"  
  
Nadya shook her head as she replaced the brush in the grooming kit and took out a comb. "No, it's just Mr. Sure-of-himself's way of playing," she laughed.  
  
Methos hadn't heard her laugh in a while.  
  
"Well, I'm done!" she announced, closing the door to the stall. "Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I am in need of a shower and a walk."  
  
When she was gone, Methos ambled over to Shadowfax and offered the remainder of his apple. While the horse munched, Methos regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "Nice trick, old man. You need to find yourself a filly."  
  
The horse's ears pricked up, but not from the man's comment. Methos felt a sharp sting in his shoulder. The last sound he heard was the horse's frightened whinnying.  
  
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"How is he?" a girl in a yellow jacket paused in the door of the Med lab.  
  
Rogue sighed. "He's stable, breathing all right. And the bleeding's stopped so…"  
  
Jubilation Lee came over and sat down by her friend. "Don't worry, Rogue. The Professor will know what to do; he'll be here soon."  
  
The two friends sat there in silence for a while, the only sound the regular, monotone beeping of the ECG.  
  
"How's Bobby?" Jubilee asked.  
  
Rogue bit her lip a little and then raised her head, something of a proud smile on her face. "He's handlin' everything really well. Ah mean, he is the oldest with Piotr gone so he's doin' really well. Scott'll be proud of him."  
  
Jubilee smiled, too. "And the Professor will be very proud of you, Rogue." She laid her hand on Rogue's, her own hands gloved--out of fashion rather than necessity.  
  
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The 'royal' gardens were beautiful this time of year, especially in the evening. Nadya stepped out from the archway and into the fragrant gardens, picking roses here and there. If you wanted quiet, you went to the smaller garden; if you wanted flowers and color, you came here.  
  
The young woman soon found herself lost in the beauty, just smelling the flowers and admiring the artwork that she had seen dozens of times before. It just never got old to her.  
  
She never even saw him coming. 


	13. 12

**Chapter 12**  
  
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Talia's head shot up, as the feeling scratched around inside her head, sending fire through every nerve. _'Coming fast.'_ Her mind raced, _'No, not here! Not now! This is not what I need right now!'_ She then hurried through the villa, following it.  
  
............................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Ororo and Piotr were busy helping themselves to supper. Piotr was wondering at why the others--Joe and Duncan--had wanted to leave, to go with them back to the mansion. Xavier had understood, as had Logan, MacLeod's motivation to help; it was not only his nature but, given the situation, it was best that both sides have potential "hostages" though more so for mutual piece of mind. Little did the Professor know how pressing that idea was about to become.  
  
"Pass me the juice, please." Ororo asked and poured herself a glass. Her ears picked up a faint whirring, which in a few moments she distinguished as helicopter blades. She paid it no mind. And, by the time it had grown louder, their attention was focused elsewhere.  
  
"What was that?" Piotr's head jerked up from his meal at the sound of a loud crash. The two of them rushed to the hallway in time. Hearing Talia yell, Ororo gestured to Piotr to split up and they rushed towards the sound from different angles.  
  
Piotr would exit the side of the villa and Storm....out through the front of the villa.  
  
Ororo rushed through the door, her eyes just beginning to show white. Then, just as quickly, her shirt showed red as blood soaked the front of it.  
  
She fell before she reached the steps.  
  
Piotr threw his armor up as he rounded the corner of the villa.  
  
In the driveway, a helicopter was in mid-land; Piotr could see men is black ski masks carrying.....  
  
"Nadya!!" he screamed after her. He saw Talia fighting off one of the men, who had lost his gun. He rushed and threw the assailant halfway across the yard. Talia did not spare him a look, only yelled as she headed for the helicopter.  
  
"Take the car...follow them!" Piotr looked to the car, then back to the fleeing figure. He wanted to go with her. He watched the door to the helicopter slam closed and lift off.  
  
Part of being part of a team meant trusting, taking orders from those more experienced than you, even if they go against everything you want to do at the moment. Piotr understood this. That is why the tall Russian shed his metal skin and rushed for the car instead of rushing after Talia and, more directly, Nadya.  
  
Talia's focus shrank down to one point, one goal: don't let them get away! She felt the bullets hit her as she approached the helicopter. She ignored them.  
  
30 yards.....  
  
She watched the door slide shut, her tunnel vision catching a small hand lying on the floor of the machine, motionless.  
  
20 yards....  
  
The craft started to lift off the ground. Talia noted the sound of tires screeching. "Good, he listened."  
  
5 yards....  
  
Jump for it!  
  
Talia leapt up and grabbed ahold of the stationary landing gear and the trespassing piece of metal lifted up into the air. It moved to head out over the valley, thankfully the roadway went there. Talia tried to pull herself up, just as she heard a door open. She looked up to meet the bottom of a boot.  
  
Freefall.  
  
Impact.  
  
.....................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Piotr had reached the bottom of the hill when he realized that Talia was not hanging from the bottom of the helicopter. He worried about that but he followed as best he could...thankful they weren't going as fast as they could and also had their running lights on. He drove blindly, ignoring the honking horns out to warn him he did not have his lights on. They probably did not want the authorities after them. Piotr squeezed the steering wheel, his rage deforming it slightly.  
  
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The Professor laid a hand on Kurt's head and the man's eyes fluttered as he came around finally.  
  
"Kurt. Kurt, can you hear me?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Professor?" Kurt's voice was strained but not out of pain. More out of weariness.  
  
"It's all right, Kurt. I am here." Xavier said soothingly. Nearby, Logan stood with Rogue and Bobby. Rogue bit a finger of her gloved hand nervously.  
  
"Now, Kurt, what happened? Who did this to you?" the Professor asked quietly, gently.  
  
Kurt swallowed hard, his tail giving a half-hearted twitch. "I did not see zem, Professor. Zee kitchen was...tossed. Silverware, cabinets emptied everywhere. He must have been a burglar. I saw zee kitchen and zen...nuhsing." The blue mutant gave a weak laugh, raising his pointed tail slightly, "I must have scared him."  
  
The Professor laid his hand on Kurt's head again and gently searched his mind, finding everything Kurt said. "That's good, Kurt. Now, rest. You will be right as rain soon." Then Charles sat back in his wheelchair, moving over to look at Kurt's x-rays.  
  
After a while, they left him to rest with Jubilee watching over him. Scott, Logan, the Professor, and the three eldest children met in Charles' office.  
  
"Rogue, Bobby, Kitty, I have to say that you handled yourselves very well in the midst of crisis. You may very well have saved Kurt's life. I am very proud of you all."  
  
The teenagers' chests swelled obviously, for such a compliment was an honor. Logan smirked to himself as Rogue's chin lifted just a bit.  
  
"Don't get that head too high, kid," he teased, to which she simply stuck out her tongue, completely shattering the mature adult look she had had only a moment before.  
  
Duncan and Joe stood in the corner, Joe whispering to the highlander, "She reminds me of someone we know."  
  
The Professor then turned to their guests. "Duncan, Joseph, these are some of our best students: Marie, Bobby, and Kitty. Also known to us as Rogue, Iceman, and Shadowcat." The three teenagers nodded. "This is Duncan MacLeod and Joseph Dawson, friends of ours from France."  
  
"Pleasuh to meet you." Rogue stuck out her hand, which Duncan shook.  
  
"Why the...uh...?" he began, noting her covered hands and long sleeves.  
  
Rogue withdrew her hand. "Ah can't touch other people skin to skin; Ah could kill them."  
  
Duncan nodded and returned his own hands to his pockets. "Trust me, it wouldn't be that much of a problem for someone like me." He left it at that, in case the Professor did not want his existence explained.  
  
He obviously didn't...not at this moment, at least. It was then that the Professor took the Watcher and Immortal on a tour of the Mansion while Scott and Logan tended to some security details.  
  
"This is quite a set-up you have here, Charles." Joe said, his cane thumping on the hardwood floors as a group of students hurried past to the game room.  
  
Charles nodded. "These students are my children, and I have done my best to accommodate them. Scott and Storm are the main teachers, along with myself, and Logan is slowly being integrated into the school."  
  
Joe rather smirked to himself at the thought of big, angry Logan teaching a classroom full of students. "That's rather hard to imagine, to be honest. How did he come to be a part of your school?"  
  
"That is a very long story, but I suppose we have Rogue to thank for that. He saved her life, after all." Professor Xavier replied as they came out onto a patio that overlooked the basketball court.  
Bobby was playing a round with some of the younger kids, one of them duplicating himself to make up a whole team.  
  
"Hey, no powers!" one of the other students protested and the kid de-replicated himself reluctantly.  
  
Duncan still found it rather hard to believe that there were people with these kinds of powers but, then again... _'If such things as Immortals exist, why not mutants?'_  
  
Joe lowered himself haltingly into a chair and Charles again found himself feeling a sort of brotherly affection for this man who, too, had lost his legs but yet refused to let it shape his life. He admired Joe Dawson.  
  
As the three men took afternoon tea, the Professor sighed. "Well, it seems that all is well here after all. There is nothing to suggest that it was not a burglar, especially the fact that Kurt was not hurt any worse and some of my best silverware is missing." At this, he chuckled to himself, lifting the cup to his lips.  
  
There was silence between the three for a while and then Charles spoke again. "May I ask a question?"  
  
Duncan nodded, "Of course."  
  
"Well, as you know, I did read Nadya's mind. She allowed me, though I am sorry for the repercussions afterward with Methos." Charles put a hand to his head as though recalling the overload that was Methos' mind and memory. "I saw your connection to her family. However, I am curious as to the deep connection between her and you."  
  
Duncan shifted somewhat uncomfortably and Charles knew that he had hit a nerve, something that the Scot did not care to discuss. "I promised to look after her; I swore on her parents' graves that I'd take care of her as though she were my own daughter."  
  
Charles cradled his teacup in his hands. _'But that's not all, is it?'_ his mind spoke to Duncan's. _'She's one of you, isn't she?'_  
  
Mac refused to allow himself to think, to answer, though his eyes said it all. Joe knew instinctively what was being asked but kept his mouth shut; to disclose was Mac's decision and Mac's alone.  
  
Just then, the basketball bounced onto the patio, past the Professor's chair. "Sorry, Professor!" One of the boys hurried to fetch it.  
  
"Not a problem, Jamie." Charles replied and Joe thumped the ground lightly with his cane, enjoying the irony.  
  
"Nadya is as much my child as these children are yours," Duncan suddenly said.  
  
Case closed.  
  
..............................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Inside the Mansion, Logan sat in the TV room, smoking. Rogue entered quietly and stood in the doorway. He could smell her: southern flowers and sunshine.  
  
"What is it, kid?" he asked, not so gruffly, as he was used to her.  
  
"I wanted to ahsk you what happened in France," she replied, moving to sit on the couch. "Peter wouldn't tell us anythin' when you guys were back here before. But he was actin' funny."  
  
At that, Logan chuckled to himself, knowing why Piotr had been acting so strangely.  
  
"Honestly, kid. I'm not sure what's goin' on," he replied, sticking his cigar back into his mouth, an indication that the conversation was over.  
  
Rogue, however, just sat there, used to silences with Logan. It was nice just to be with him again.  
  
As he inhaled southern flowers and sunshine again, Logan found himself wishing it were vanilla and ocean breezes he was sitting next to. 'So close…' his thoughts began to conjure that moment, but he stopped it at the last second.  
  
"See you later, kid." With that, he got up from the couch and headed for the Danger Room to exercise. 


	14. 13

**Chapter 13**  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Cold. It was cold...and clammy. The air was wet. Nadya's eyes opened slowly. At first, all she saw were blurs. Then blurs became colors, colors lines, and lines bars. She blinked several times. Yes, bars, tightly interlaced. A cage.  
  
She sat up slowly, the top of the cage some two feet above her head. She could hear water dripping nearby and torchlight cast flickers on water below her. Where was she?  
  
She tried to piece it all together but all she could salvage was that last rose in the garden. Then....nothing.  
  
Suddenly, Nadya heard a pain-filled cry. She turned to see a man, strung up by his wrists nearby. His shirt was shredded, a whip biting his back.  
  
"Methos!" she screamed, scrambling to the side of her cage nearest him. A man with an awful sadistic look on his face striped Methos' back with a cat-o'-ninetails.  
  
"Don't worry, pretty. He will heal." Nadya suddenly turned to see another man sitting atop her cage, smiling down at her. "My, my. Aren't you cute? Much too cute for such an old man."  
  
She backed away from him instinctively.  
  
He just laughed, a sword leaning across his lap. Disheveled blonde hair fell into his face, his eyes a dangerous brown, and that same awful smile fixed to his face. "Well, Methos, what do you say?"  
  
A strangled "no" came from the hanging man.  
  
The blonde tsk'ed and then looked down at Nadya. "Ever seen a man hung, drawn, and quartered, my dear? Perhaps you should; it would be very educational for you."  
  
She said nothing, only looked back at Methos, reading the pain on his face outlined with anger. There was a creak and a splash but she paid it no mind.  
  
Suddenly, a hand grasped her hair, pulling her head down through a door in the side of the cage!  
  
"Now, Methos. I will make a bargain with you. Your life for the girl's. Fight me and win her freedom," the blonde offered, sliding the cold flat of his blade along her neck. "Come now, you were all for choices with Kronos."  
  
Kronos! Nadya knew the story; Joe had told her when Methos and Duncan wouldn't.  
  
The blonde tilted her head back, forcing her to look up at him. He lowered his head to hers, his lips almost touching her ear, whispering. "Tell him to do it, Nadya. Tell him to fight me; he'll lose, of course; but you'll keep that lovely throat intact."  
  
Methos felt the burning in his back lose all consequence. He could NOT be living this scene again! First Cassandra and now Nadya. This wasn't bloody happening!  
  
The Boy--for that's what he was compared to Methos--lowered his face closer to Nadya's, his eyes on Methos the entire time.  
  
"Leave her alone!" the ancient growled as the whip cracked one more time.  
  
"Why? I thought Horsemen shared everything; and she looks sweet. Is she sweet, Methos?" he asked, smiling. He twisted his grip on Nadya's hair, causing her to cry out.  
  
This boy, a mere 200 years old, had known Kronos; he had served under him a long time ago, been trained by him. He had the same look in his eye. He'd idolized Kronos and knew that it was Methos' fault the great man was dead. Now, here in the place of Kronos' last stand, he wished to take from this remaining Horseman what mattered to him most and, from days, weeks of watching, he knew it was this girl.  
  
...................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Piotr silently slipped through the catacombs of the old submarine station. He slunk, as best he could, into the shadows, trying to find Nadya. He could hear echoes, fragments of sound bouncing off the steel walls, but he couldn't tell the direction.  
  
Suddenly, he heard a cry, just loud enough. A female cry.  
  
_'Nadya!'_ He then hurried down the causeway towards it.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Thump.  
  
Thump.  
  
Thump. Snickt  
  
Thump. Ripppppppp. Snickt  
  
"You're getting stuffing all over the floor." Scott commented dryly from the doorway.  
  
Logan paused, leaving the partially disemboweled punching bag to swing, its sides leaking stuffing on the floor.  
  
"Can it." Logan said. He crossed the room, dripping sweat, till he came to the weights.  
  
Scott followed and spotted the older man as he began a set.  
  
Huff One.  
  
Huff Two.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
Huff Three.  
  
"The Professor doesn't think that the situation is too serious. They are still searching the mansion to see what was taken. He wants you to accompany him back to the villa." Scott watched Logan carefully.  
  
Huff Twelve.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"He thinks someone should stay here. Bobby and Rogue and the others handled the situation well, but Xavier wants to be safe."  
  
"So it's just Chuck, me, and our new friends?"  
  
Huff Twenty-one.  
  
"Almost."  
  
Clank! The barbell went back to its stand and Logan glared at Scott, as best he could through the red-quartz shades.  
  
"Almost?"  
  
"He wants you to take Rogue and Bobby."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
"Plan on leaving after dinner."  
  
"That will put us in around early morning there."  
  
"You don't really think that some cut-rate burglar was able to take out Kurt for some silverware."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Exactly." Logan stood and left to go get a shower.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Piotr had been searching for a while for where Nadya was but the sounds had stopped, and it was nightfall now. Pitch black. He couldn't see two feet in front of himself.  
  
"Ooffff!"  
  
Make that one foot.  
  
"If I keep this up, they'll hear me stumbling around and come and get me, but that would be making things too easy." Piotr thought to himself as he felt along the wall for an opening, trying to be quiet. He wanted to change into his mutant armor and crash through some walls, find Nadya, and get out. But that could get complicated. He could bring down some walls on top of her if he took out a load-bearing one. Or, and he was rather certain of this, they might shoot her; he knew they would shoot at him but his armor would help. No, it was better to find them first and then plan out a course of action.  
  
......................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos felt his arms, wishing they had gone numb._ 'They went numb the last time you were strung up like this, old man.'_ But the Emperor Chin had left him up a lot longer than this torturer. Either way, he was cursing his luck at the moment. And the young Immortal across the room. He had tied Nadya to a chair, drugged her again, and then left.  
  
_'Presumably to get the instruments necessary to have me hung, drawn, and quartered.'_ He hoped they wouldn't make Nadya watch. But he should know better than to hope. Methos also hoped that he didn't kill her. He knew he could feel her, feel what she could become. He chuckled at the thought.  
  
_'If he kills her, Talia and MacLeod will make him wish he had only been hung, drawn, and quartered. And if I survive this....I'll let him see how docile Kronos really was!'_  
  
After a while, their 'host' returned, carrying a medium-sized leather case. He stopped by Nadya's chair and ran the back of his fingers along her cheek, her head lolling to the side a bit. Her eyes were barely open, the drug doing its job well.  
  
The Boy--as Methos had come to mentally call him--smiled at the ancient, letting his fingers run along her jaw. Actually, his name was Hayden and he had told Methos as much, but Methos wouldn't even dignify it in his mind.  
  
"You always were selfish with the best, Methos," Hayden chuckled, setting the case down so he could pay his full attention to Nadya. He bent his knees, crouching by the chair. "She's like Cassandra, isn't she? Beautiful, fiery, loyal to a fault, but not shared. Tsk, tsk. Selfish, selfish Methos." Chuckling again, he rose, grasped the case, and sloshed through the shallow water to where Methos was strung up.  
  
Methos just glared at Hayden as he circled him, like a director deciding on how to set up a scene.  
  
He grasped a shred of Methos' now worthless shirt between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it free and letting it drop onto the ground. "We must give her the best view possible, Methos."  
  
"What do you possibly think you're going to accomplish by showing her this? This is between you and me."  
  
Hayden smiled again. "Ah, Methos. Kronos always told me that you were a smooth talker. There are no innocent parties; sweet Nadya is as much a part of this as you or I. My goal is not only to kill you, though that will come eventually; my goal is to destroy you, Methos. To make you suffer and pay for what happened." Then he moved to cross the puddle towards Nadya again. "And if that means making her suffer, so be it. I know what she is, Methos. And I'll keep her, thanks."  
  
Just then, his cohorts began cutting Methos down, one slipping a noose around his neck. Methos struggled, trying to kick his way free but the men tied his ankles, his hands strapped behind his back.  
  
"Nadya. Come on, darling. Open those pretty eyes." Hayden tapped her cheek gently.  
  
The drug finally wore off, her eyes fluttering open.  
  
"That's it. Good girl."  
  
When everything snapped into place, she saw Methos. A rope around his neck, he was being lifted off the ground, his whole body twitching. Gargled gasps came from his throat as the rope squeezed his neck tighter and tighter, cutting off his airflow.  
  
Nadya screamed, struggling against her own ropes as they held him there, letting him literally twist in the wind. "Stop it! Let him go!"  
  
Hayden covered her mouth with his hand for a moment. "Shhhh, just enjoy it, Nadya. Ouch!" He winced and then smiled again as she bit his hand. "You're feisty, aren't you, dear?" Standing, he returned the favor, striking her! "Well, we'll fix that eventually."  
  
.............................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Moving along as quietly as he could, Piotr continued through the darkened substation, trying to find Nadya. Just then, Piotr heard gasps and struggling going on. Seeing flickering light up ahead, he cautiously peeked around a corner. He saw Nadya unconscious, tied to a chair, a blonde man crouching next to her. He woke her, made her watch. He then saw Methos being lynched, his hands and feet tied securely. The men around him began to pull the rope, drawing him up by his neck, hanging him.  
  
Nadya screamed for mercy, for them to stop, but the blonde simply put his hand over her mouth. She must have bitten him, because he pulled his hand away again, laughing.  
  
Piotr felt the rage being to boil up inside him as Methos was hung before Nadya's eyes. Suddenly, the blonde made a huge mistake. He slapped her!  
  
That sent the young mutant over the edge!  
  
Hayden was leaning down towards Nadya again, smiling at the pink mark on her cheek when, suddenly, there was a huge crash! A ferocious metal giant hurtled towards Hayden, knocking the man off his feet and into the solid wall across the room!! There was a snap and he fell into the shallow water, his neck broken cleanly in two. The minions released Methos, seeing that this monster needed their immediate attention!  
  
"Piotr!" Nadya blinked unbelievingly, for he truly did look like a creature never before seen. His rage was obvious as he bowled through the men, their bullets simply glancing off his armor. Soon, their bodies lay strewn all over the room, Methos lying the floor, dead. They had held him too long.  
  
Piotr grabbed up the limp body and, snapping Nadya's ropes like they were shoelaces, he picked her up, too, and headed back through the substation. "We have to get out of here. There will be more of them." 


	15. 14

**Chapter 14**  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Rogue hurried through the hallways to the Blackbird's hanger.  
  
"Where ya been, kid?" Logan asked, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"Sorry, Ah had to get mah things," she replied, hurrying up the ramp. Bobby was already strapped in, the Professor sitting up in the front. Logan took his place at the helm and the jet rose up out of the basketball court and rocketed off into the air.  
  
Scott watched from the office window as the Blackbird disappeared into the night.  
  
"Are you angry zat you are not going wiz zem?" Kurt suddenly appeared. His head was still bandaged but he was feeling much better.  
  
Scott shook his head. "No, not angry, Kurt. Just...worried. I have a bad feeling."  
  
....................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos had revived in the car, gasping and coughing. Nadya had untied him, hugging him and crying. He'd said nothing, really. Her fright was enough to silence him for right now. When they pulled into the driveway of the villa, Methos hurried into the house. "Talia?! Talia!"  
  
No answer.  
  
Piotr kept his arm around Nadya, supporting her, as she was still a little woozy from the tranquilizer. "Are you all right, Nadya?"  
  
Holding on to him, she nodded a little. "I'll be fine, Piotr. I just..."  
  
"Nadya! Piotr!" Methos' voice bellowed through the house.  
  
Hurrying to the front foyer, they saw him hurrying towards the bedrooms with Ororo in his arms, red staining her shirt! She was out cold, blood dripping down her left arm.  
  
"Nadya, hurry!" Methos called for her as he set Ororo down on the bed, looking for the wound.  
  
She knew what to do. "Piotr, help him, please!" With that, she hurried as fast as she could to the kitchen for water, rags, and disinfectant.  
  
Ripping Ororo's shirt, Methos found the source of the bleeding. A bullet had gone straight through her shoulder. She had been losing blood for hours and was unconscious, but it had begun to clot so that not so much blood was escaping now. Her pulse was faint, though. Very faint.  
  
Piotr's voice shook with fear. "Methos, is she going to die?"  
  
Methos' brow was furrowed; he couldn't let her die. In fact, he was surprised that she not already bled out. "No, she's not going to die, Piotr," he said shortly, pressing on the wound.  
Just then, Nadya returned. Having Piotr move, she and Methos tended to Ororo, cleaning and bandaging her wound. For now, they did not worry about Talia.  
  
She could take care of herself, couldn't she?  
  
They worked on Ororo for over an hour. Methos did most of the work, of course, having the most experience. Sunrise saw the wound cleaned, disinfected as best as they could, and bandaged sufficiently. Methos then allowed himself to sink into a nearby chair the last bits of his energy leaving him. Piotr placed Ororo carefully onto the leather couch, covering her with a blanket. Nadya started to clean up, but Methos summarily ordered her to sit herself down and not to do a blessed thing.  
  
Suddenly, they heard the droning of an engine, Methos yelling at them to get down as he grabbed one of the arms from the wall display! Piotr threw up his armor again and pulled Nadya over by the limp form on the couch for safety. Then they saw the Blackbird shoot by the window to circle for a landing spot.  
  
Methos laughed out loud, only to trail off in some indecipherable mutterings as he slowly dragged himself out to meet them. Piotr let out a loud sigh. Nadya curled into a ball in the chair, presumably to sleep.  
  
Duncan's first glance caught the lanky form of his friend makings its way across the lawn. He saw the sword. Then he saw the blood. Unfortunately, the others saw the blood as well.  
  
"You missed the fun, MacLeod." Methos yelled almost jovially across the lawn.  
  
"Methos, what happened?!!" Duncan bellowed. Methos was almost there when Logan saw the blood covering him, and the weapon in his hand. And of course the mutant thought the worst. He could smell Ororo's blood!  
  
Snickt!  
  
"What did you do to them?!" he yelled and started to rush the bedraggled form.  
  
Methos' face took on a look of utter shock and alarm before his features tightened. Logan was coming at him and he had had a really bad night.  
  
Logan's claw cut down at him but the ancient side-stepped and slashed out with his own weapon, nicking the other's side.  
  
"I didn't do a blessed thing! Now put your exaggerated can openers up!"  
  
Whether or not his words would have worked or not would not be known. Rogue had taken that moment to scream.  
  
Logan's attention then focused on her, thinking she had seen him get cut, but she wasn't looking at him. Bobby was also looking off in the distance with her, his face a mask of horror and disgust.  
  
"Ah think Ah'm gonna be sick." Rogue rushed off down the ramp to the side of the Blackbird to do just that.  
  
Logan, followed by Methos, rushed over to see what was the matter. Joe and the Professor got there just at they did.  
  
"I wondered where she went." Methos said in extreme distaste.  
  
Logan felt a flash of fear, forgetting for a moment what Talia was.  
  
Down where the stately gardens began, Talia's form lay suspended on one of the metal fence spires, the tip of which protruded out through the front on her chest a good foot! The designs further down on the pike had stopped the body from sliding all the way to the ground but the result was the same nonetheless. She was dead.  
  
Logan felt like he did on the top of the Statue of Liberty three years ago. He did not like that feeling.  
  
"Not one of the more pleasant ways to die....but there are worse." Methos rubbed his throat with his empty hand.  
  
"What happened?!" Joe asked this time.  
  
"We were attacked...Immortal," Methos replied, looking to MacLeod. "With lots of lovely mortal minions and a chopper, which…" he gestured to their hostess, "I guess explains that. We should get her down."  
  
"What about...?" Duncan began frantically.  
  
"They're alive, MacLeod...at the moment. Ororo needs some blood, but later..." He started down to the garden, but then turned back to Logan. "You, come on! Those will cut through the iron faster than this will."  
  
Logan followed. Quietly for once.  
  
"Why? Why would..." Rogue stuttered, Bobby standing near her to supply comfort. The Professor silenced her, though.  
  
"Bobby, grab the first aid supplies and let's see what we can do to help. Rogue, it will be alright."  
  
"But...she..."  
  
"It's not permanent." Duncan said, to concerned about checking up on Nadya to bother with an explanation at the movement. As such, the group headed off to the house.  
  
...............................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
"Cut here." Methos indicated, "Going down so she falls this way."  
  
Logan complied, and Talia was down in one cut. Methos turned her on her side.  
  
"You want to hold or pull?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You hold." Methos didn't want to bother with it.  
  
Logan knelt down and held the body to keep it from moving. Her face was still. Dead. Her head hung limply to her side. Traces of dried blood on her forehead. The ground around the fence pole was stained red from it, as was the fence. He swallowed back down his dinner.  
  
"...two...one." Methos pulled.  
  
There was a sucking sound, then a gaping hole. Logan could see ribs, lung. He rolled her over and thankfully the shirt covered it, but the bloody rent in the shirt kept it in mind. He heard Methos counting.  
  
"..four...five....six.."  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
A hand for silence was his only answer.  
  
"..eight ...nine...ten....eleven...twelve.....thirteen....fourteen."  
  
Talia then gave a violent gasp and shudder! She coughed a few times, breath inflating her newly healed lungs. Logan immediately put his hand under her head, waiting for it to pass.  
  
Methos caught the look of concern in the other man's eyes. This time he didn't feel like being annoying about it. Talia's eyes finally focused on Logan. Then she looked over to Methos.  
  
"Nadya..."  
  
"Is fine."  
  
Talia let out a breath of air. "How long was I out?"  
  
"It's been a day. I wondered where you had gotten to."  
  
Talia grimaced. "I revived....two hours ago....it was dark, but dawn was approaching...Immortal."  
  
"That was us getting back. I'm sorry; I would have looked for you, but Ororo was shot...."  
  
Talia shook her head. "I've been through worse. Glad you are safe." She looked back over to Logan. "Everyone is back?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I'm alright, Logan."  
  
He nodded again.  
  
She found and squeezed his hand.  
  
Methos smirked this time. "We should get back with the others," he said, standing.  
  
Logan helped Talia up. When she swayed a little, he scooped her up easily. Methos rolled his eyes and started for the villa.  
  
"Peter!!" Rogue exclaimed as she rushed into the room.  
  
They had passed the pool of blood just at the entranceway, and halfway into the room she saw Ororo as well.  
  
"Storm!" Bobby followed behind her, carrying the medical supplies. Duncan and the others entered the room just after them.  
  
"He patched her up." Piotr said from where he sat next to an overstuffed leather chair holding the small form of Nadya.  
  
Duncan looked at her, felt for a pulse. She was asleep. He let out a sigh of relief. Joe also visibly relaxed.  
  
The Professor was looking at Ororo, unconscious on the couch, white bandage covering her shoulder. He looked to Piotr.  
  
"She had us split up...and..."  
  
"It's alright, Piotr. Rest. We will sort this all out when the others get back with Talia."  
  
"Talia! Where is she?!! The last I saw her, she was hanging onto the landing gear of the helicopter. Is she ok?"  
  
Rogue blanched. Duncan answered.  
  
"She will be."  
  
The Russian rubbed his eyes.  
  
"But she was dead." Rogue began.  
  
"Explanations will be forthcoming, Rogue." Xavier stated, looking over Ororo again.  
  
"He fixed her." Piotr said and Charles looked at him in question.  
  
"Methos...he said he had been a doctor; he cleaned the wound out and he fixed Storm."  
  
"Yeah, he's done that for me before." Joe chuckled.  
  
Duncan's head suddenly shot up and he looked about the room. Then Methos entered, followed by Logan carrying Talia, whose focus immediately went to the chair.  
  
"She's ok?" she asked again and Duncan nodded.  
  
Rogue was obviously not handling this all very well. "You were....you were…"  
  
"A shish-kabob. Yes, we know...it's not permanent." Methos said dryly.  
  
Duncan looked to Xavier, wanting him to explain the situation to them. The professor nodded and soon complied.  
  
Needless to say, the two young mutants were useless for the next half an hour. So Joe took them to the kitchen for coffee, during which Duncan took Nadya to her room and Logan took Talia to hers, though she protested the entire way. Fortunately, she was just wobbly enough that protesting was all she could do.  
  
"Lie down." Logan said, terse as always.  
  
"I've been 'lying down' for the past 24 hours, thanks," she replied, sitting up on the bed again.  
  
Logan actually winced. "That's not what I meant."  
  
"I know."  
  
......................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos had fallen into the same chair that Nadya had previously occupied, after checking up on Ororo. She'd be fine...he thought. She needed rest, her body time to reset and recoup itself.  
Charles sat near Ororo, watching over her. So Methos tried to sleep. But, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Nadya's face, horrified. Felt the rope around his neck, air seeping away. Death had never frightened him before, at least not like this. Perhaps it was the thought of dying in front of someone he cared about; dying and not being able to save her from dying, too, and becoming a prisoner for the rest of her life.  
  
She was asleep, good. Duncan stood over Nadya's bed for a while; he had to talk to Methos, find out what happened. He'd noticed a small bruise on Nadya's cheekbone. Barely there but enough for his experienced eyes to catch. The Highlander felt anger well up and pinched the bridge of his nose; Murphy's Law was a pain. He should have killed the man before he'd had time to come up with it.  
  
He took the chair near to her bed; perhaps he'd just sit here for a while and then go talk to Methos.  
  
The ancient rose from his seat and walked out to the terrace. The cool air felt good on his skin, but he noticed he wasn't alone. Piotr stood at the far end of the terrace. Methos knew he owed the young man something.  
  
"_Sbaseeba bolshoi_, Piotr, (Thank you very much)" he said, moving over towards the mutant. "We might both be dead if it wasn't for you."  
  
Piotr gave a weak smile and lowered his head again. "When he hit Nadya, I...I just snapped," he whispered.  
  
Methos felt something twist inside of him; he hadn't seen that, he'd already blacked out. That Boy was almost as cruel as Kronos; he'd been taught well. He bloody even spoke like the man!  
  
"How is Nadya?" Piotr asked quietly.  
  
Methos shrugged. "MacLeod took her to her room; she's still sleeping, I assume. It's been a long night for her, for you, too. Why don't you get some rest?" His voice was a bit--just a bit--friendly. Nodding, the Russian shuffled off to his bed and Methos took up residence on the terrace rail. He would not hazard sleep right now; like Odysseus, bad things seemed to happen when he slept. And he really didn't want to remember Odysseus' journey; it hadn't been a pleasant one. 


	16. 15

**Chapter 15**  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Rogue sighed as she plopped her duffel bag onto the bed. It was a really nice room; one of the nicest she had ever seen. There was a beautiful painting of some Grecian ruins on the wall, a little statuette of Cupid and Psyche on the night table. As she sat on the bed, there was a soft knock on the door.  
  
It was Bobby.  
  
Silent, he entered and sat on the bed next to her. "So."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Neither teenager knew what to say. People who lived forever, unless their heads were cut off. Yet they could die...for a while. Are they some kind of mutant, they had asked the Professor, but he had said no. They are a completely different species. One of them had helped Stryker. And yet Professor Xavier trusted them! It was just surreal.  
  
Just then, the two kids heard thumping footsteps and Piotr passed the half-open door on the way to his room. They didn't stop him, however, sure that he needed sleep. .............................................................................  
  
Nadya tossed and turned a little in the bed, her brows knit together. Her dreams had taken a darker turn. She saw Hayden standing over Methos' body, the ancient's Ivanhoe in his hand. He was smiling...that smile.  
  
"You're mine, pretty."  
  
Then he reached down and grasped something, lifting it. "Care to give him one last kiss good-bye, Nadya?"  
  
Methos' head!  
  
She woke, screaming. Her voice was hot and painful in her throat. She felt hands grasp her arms and began to try to fight them off. Too strong!  
  
"Nadya! Nadya, stop! It was a dream." That voice. Duncan!  
  
He finally met her eyes. "It was a dream, bairne."  
  
Next were the tears, not words. She just pressed against his sweater and cried.  
  
Duncan finally quieted Nadya down and then settled down to sleep again himself.  
  
A few moments later, convinced that both her friends were sleeping again, Talia pushed herself off of the wall next to the doorway, heading downstairs. Nadya's screams had woken her up and though she wanted to give comfort, she felt her friend needed rest more so at the moment. And, to tell the truth, she was in no emotional condition to provide the comfort the girl needed. Blood was wanting to boil, now that her body had replenished the lost blood to allow it to do so.  
  
"...came into my home. Hurt my guests. Kidnapped my friends." Her wanderings about the halls of the villa lead her to where Methos sat fighting off sleep.  
  
"I want him dead," her fellow immortal said, guessing her mood to match his own. The silence confirmed it.  
  
"Who was it?" she asked.  
  
A chuckle. Bitter and dry. "Another repercussion from my past come back to haunt us all."  
  
"Really?" She did not believe him.  
  
"Look, I am tired of...of making amends for my mistakes.....of dealing with everyone trying to make me feel guilt....of people thinking I should assuage my conscience to conform to some ridiculous idea of what is good and right." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.  
  
"Well, you will only have to deal with the most of that for the next hundred years. Not to long for us-for you-to suffer the ideologies of children, I should think."  
  
Methos stopped his diatribe and looked at her. "Sorry?"  
  
"They will all be dead in one hundred years...or sooner.....probably sooner. Then all they know about you will die. And MacLeod will be one hundred years wiser, time will deaden his sense of....purpose. His feelings of judgment towards you." She sat next to him, leaning back in the lounge chair.  
  
Methos had an incredulous look on his face. "So you are saying, what ..that I should humor them? Play the penitent..."  
  
"No...you cannot fake sorrow for your actions. Do you feel sorrow? Don't over-analyze it. For the fact that you hurt those children, regardless if you thought the ends would justify the means, and regardless to whether or not you would do it again if the opportunity arose?" She smiled.  
  
He smirked. "Yes. I do suppose I feel pain...that I hurt them. And that I had hurt Nadya, and made MacLeod look at me like when he found out the atrocities I did as a Horseman. And you?"  
  
"I like children. I like them alive and happy and innocent. Someone deserves to be innocent for a while, if not forever. But I realize that, in a different time and place, that was the way of the world. The way of survival. What you did is only more atrocious because you could do it longer than the rest. Better than the rest. I have read the books, seen the histories of the world, its atrocities. If nothing else, it makes you more human, as does your ability to change."  
  
Methos looked at her. "So what about right and wrong, shall they be chucked out the window again?"  
  
"Sometimes the wrong is the necessity. And, as for what is right, there is no person on this earth to judge you for what you did."  
  
"You could," he said softly.  
  
"Then I would judge myself guilty as well."  
  
Methos started. She sounded like him! "Have you been talking to MacLeod about this??"  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you positive?"  
  
"You need a beer," she said.  
  
He nodded. Then he left.  
  
Talia smiled to herself and looked up to gaze at the stars. She heard the person hiding in the shadows shift their weight to their other foot.  
  
"Logan." she whispered, knowing he would hear her. He walked over to where she sat. She looked up at him, reading the expression on his face.  
  
"You will never understand, no matter how hard you try to....even if you bother with that much."  
  
"You feel it is acceptable, what he did....and...whatever else you were talking about, which sounds a lot worse than that."  
  
"Actually, I feel old." She stood and shivered slightly as a cool breeze blew over the hillside.  
  
Logan stepped closer, shielding her from the wind, watching as it whipped her hair about slightly. "Old, huh? Well, you look rather good for an old woman."  
  
"Emotionally, Logan." She wrapped her arms around herself.  
  
Logan reached over and scooped up one of the throws lying about. He placed it around her shoulders; as she barely noted the gesture, he bent over and kissed her softly, barely touching, like her earlier touch on his face. He looked at her as he pulled back a bit.  
  
"Surprise. You're still standing." she said.  
  
He grunted, a growl almost.  
  
The next kiss lasted longer.  
  
...............................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos took another sip of his beer. Then he wandered off to find a new spot to try to stay awake at. Perhaps the garden would still be unoccupied.  
  
"I have you, at least. You'll never leave me, will you? Well, so long at there isn't another abolition movement." The old man and his beer went in search of solitude.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Rogue had woken early and gone to check on Ororo who was sleeping peacefully. She then went in search of the kitchen, she had been in a bit of shock the night before when the guy called Joe had escorted them there, and was in the process of trying to find it when she heard Logan's light snoring. She couldn't see him in the room, but then she saw the balcony.  
  
Bobby woke up and found the kitchen all right. However, he found Rogue to be in a quiet withdrawn mood. He offered her a smile and then went about fixing himself some breakfast, assuming she was still trying to wrap her mind around what they had learned last night.  
  
In a way she was, but more so from this morning.  
  
..................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Logan's brows knit together with not wanting to wake, and his hand slid out to where Talia should have been next to him. Her place was cold. Now his eyes were open. The throw rug fell off his form as he sat up on the enlarged fainting couch, glancing around. She was sitting on the terrace railing, looking out towards the horizon.  
  
It was her private moment spent with the sun each day, watching it rise.  
  
"Are you always up this early?" he asked, still sitting on the couch.  
  
She didn't answer.  
  
He hated that silence. The morning after.  
  
"Talia?"  
  
She finally turned her head to look at him, the rising sun giving her a sort of halo.  
  
Logan groaned and waited for the normal 'morning after talk'. That was a mistake. Let's not make a big deal out of it. It was a dumb thing to do.  
  
_'Blast it, nothing even happened!'_ he growled inwardly.  
  
But it didn't come. She just gave that almost-invisible smile for a moment and then it fell. "Rogue loves you, you know that?"  
  
OK, this was new!  
  
"What?" Logan stood and moved over to her, his brow furrowed in surprise.  
  
"She saw us, early this morning. I heard her footsteps." Talia felt a funny chuckle escape her throat; part of her couldn't believe she had kissed the Wolverine.  
  
"Oh." Logan sat down next to her, thinking for a while. "She's with Bobby; she'll forget eventually."  
  
Talia chuckled again and shook her head, leaning forward and resting her chin on his shoulder to look up at him. "How little you know; she won't forget. Oh, she'll get past it but she won't forget. She carries a part of you in her always...literally."  
  
Logan smiled slightly, looking down at her. "Says the woman who's been intimately acquainted with my claws."  
  
Talia chuckled. "Ooooo, big words out of the Wolverine."  
  
Logan half-smiled again, leaning down. "Shut up, Talia."  
  
............................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos had finally fallen asleep, the empty beer bottle falling from his hand to nestle on the deep grass of the smaller garden. He was sprawled on one of the boulder-benches, the sun warming it pleasantly now as the sun rose higher and higher.  
  
However, when he woke up, he found that he wasn't alone. Nadya's head rested on his chest, her arm around his waist and a blanket over them both.  
  
She'd woken time after time that night, afraid. Finally, she'd crept out of her room, careful not to wake Duncan. Pulling the blanket with her, she'd found Methos and lain down on the bench with him. Now she felt safe, as long as he was there.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he whispered at the top of her head. She didn't move.  
  
Duncan, of course, was in an uproar at finding Nadya gone. But he soon decided that she was fine; he could still feel her close by. The tickling sensation of a pre-immortal still pressed against his own Quickening.  
  
He still didn't know all of what had happened, hadn't had time to talk to Methos.  
  
What was that?  
  
Backtracking two steps, Duncan peeked onto the terrace and then quickly moved on, a smirking smile on his face.  
  
_'To tease or not to tease? No. I like my smaller intestine.'_ he decided wisely.  
  
.....................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Charles was sitting in his chair by Ororo's bedside when she awoke.  
  
"Professor," came her weak voice.  
  
"Welcome back." Xavier smiled with relief as she came to. She seemed to draw some comfort from his presence but then remembered why she was in her current predicament. Worry multiplied  
  
"Piotr. What ha..."  
  
"It's alright. Everyone is alive, and back in one piece." _'At least physically,'_ he added silently.  
  
She nodded, feeling too tired to talk.  
  
"Could you drink something?" They both turned to the new voice from the doorway. Duncan stood there. Again, she nodded this time will a smile.  
  
"I'll go get you some juice. Professor Xavier, as soon as we can collect everyone...."  
  
"We can work through this anytime, Mr. MacLeod. There is not rush." Duncan smiled then left to get the juice.  
  
"You get as much rest as you can." Charles patted her hand, then wheeled himself from the room.  
  
.........................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Piotr pulled himself out of bed finally. He had lain there along time. Thinking about everything. He now had a headache. He passed Rogue in the library area, on his way to the kitchen. She seemed morose but his own mood would not be of much help for that. He had only one thing on his mind at the moment, weighing it down with anticipation and dread. How could such a small woman evoke such a huge feeling?  
  
...............................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Charles heard the sounds of soft conversation as he powered down the hallway. He caught sight of two figures seated on the stone railing of the balcony. He also felt the strong emotions radiating from them.  
  
Logan had apparently heard him slow because he stopped his quiet conversation with the dark-haired lady, Talia.  
  
"You need something, Chuck?" He turned his head to the side slightly, catching Xavier in the corner if his vision.  
  
"Later we will get everyone together to discuss everything from the past few days..."  
  
"Why tell me?"  
  
"Actually he was informing me...." Talia said.  
  
Logan looked at her.  
  
"...of that and several character flaws of yours."  
  
Logan jerked his head back to the Professor as she said that, anger on his face. Then he heard Talia laughing and Xavier's own smile fighting to come out. He frowned and said, "Funny."  
  
Talia smiled at him and then placed a kiss on the frown. It quickly faded, along with the sound of the motorized wheelchair continuing down the hall.  
  
......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos finally got Nadya to wake. Long after his leg had gone numb.  
  
_'Yes, for you I feel regret.' _  
  
"Methos...."  
  
"You do not have to. If you want to, that's ok...but take your time. I am here if you need it." He simply offered.  
  
...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
"Are you OK?" Bobby asked, setting his mug down. Rogue had not said a word all through breakfast; it wasn't like her to be so quiet.  
  
Rogue glanced up at him. "Yeah. I'm fine," she said quickly, turning to the remainder of her coffee, wrapping her hands around the mug.  
  
Bobby didn't believe her, of course, but he didn't press her; Rogue didn't like to be pressed.  
  
...........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
She'd finally sat up. Finally, he could move his leg. Methos sighed as he sat up on the bench. The sun was high and he tossed the blanket aside and massaged his leg, trying to get that annoying prickling numbness to go away.  
  
"I think I'm going to leave, Methos."  
  
He spun around and stared at her. "What?"  
  
"I'm going to go home to Seacouver." Nadya turned to face him. "I shouldn't be here."  
  
"What are you talking about?!"  
  
"I'm a liability. I'm tired of people getting hurt because of me; I'm tired of being a trap for my friends." There was a sad resignation to her voice as she got up and stepped through the cool grass a bit, her arms wrapped around herself.  
  
Methos felt as though someone had slapped him in the face and it stung more than Hayden's whip.  
  
"Nadya...this isn't your fault. Hayden came after me…"  
  
"But he used me to make you suffer!" she exclaimed, turning about on him. Then her voice softened a bit. "If I'm not here, at least he can't use me to hurt you. Maybe then he'll face you like a man."  
  
Methos didn't go to her, just sat where he was. "And if...and if I lose? He'll find you wherever you go, Nadya. You're part of this for him; in order to truly hurt and destroy me, he must hurt you."  
  
He said as much as he dared without revealing her own secret to her; MacLeod would kill him if he told her. He tried another approach.  
  
"And Piotr? Would you just leave him hanging?"  
  
Nadya turned to Methos, her eyes plainly calling 'foul' but she tried to disguise it. "What does he...?"  
  
Methos had been alive too long to not be able to read the slightest snatches of facial features. "He has everything to do with this, Nadya. I saw you; you care for him, I know."  
  
Nadya bit her lower lip and simply turned away again, a 'tell' that he had hit a nerve.  
  
"Please."  
  
It was the "please" that forever caught her memory. She turned around again.  
  
"Please, don't leave. I...I need you here." Methos always thought he would choke on those words but, remarkably, he didn't.  
  
Nadya sighed, moving back towards him again and sitting on the bench. Looping her arms through Methos', she laid her head on his shoulder.  
  
Nothing more was said. 


	17. 16

**Chapter 16**  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Ororo swallowed; it hurt. But not so much as before. She still felt weak, but not so much as before. She knew she needed food, though. Duncan had promised to make her an easy lunch so that she could start getting some nutrients into her system again.  
  
_'Note to self: getting shot hurts...a lot.'_  
  
"Storm?"  
  
Rogue.  
  
"Hello, dear," Ororo said quietly. "Good to see you."  
  
Rogue smiled slightly and sat on the footstool that had been placed by the sofa. "Are you feeling better?"  
  
Ororo nodded. "A bit. I think I will sit up soon, if the Professor will let me." She then noticed the preoccupied look on Rogue's face. "Rogue, are you all right?"  
  
Silence for a while. Then the young mutant shook her head.  
  
"What is wrong?"  
  
Rogue hesitated; she wasn't quite sure how to put this. It wasn't like she owned him or had rights to him or something. "I saw...I saw Logan and-what's her name-Talia sleeping out on the terrace this morning."  
  
Ororo smiled, for she knew even better than Rogue the young girl's feelings for the rough Wolverine. "Do not worry yourself, Rogue. You won't lose him, never really. But Logan has to live his own life with his own loves. You have Bobby, after all." She sighed with the exertion it took to say the words. "Personally, I am glad for him; ever since Jean..." Ororo stopped there.  
  
Rogue knew what she meant and nodded.  
  
......................................................................................................................................................   
  
"Highlander, protector of the innocent, you are needed."  
  
Duncan opened one eye at Talia's droll parody of the call of King Arthur. "You are definitely not Gwenavere," he commented, sitting up in bed.  
  
Talia shrugged smilingly. "Never wanted to be an ideal anyway. Too much work, too much falling off a pedestal, and, from what I have learned of your myths, I could be none of the other heroes either."  
  
Duncan opened his mouth to respond to that but she cut him off.  
  
"Where's Nadya?"  
  
Duncan sat up, pausing to let the blood re-circulate before standing. "I don't know, but I would venture a guess." The highlander smiled. "He was in the garden, last I saw of him."  
  
Talia left.  
  
Duncan wondered that she hadn't included the villains in her statement.  
  
"Methos." Talia broke into their quiet moment.  
  
Nadya lifted her head, as did the old man. "You, Mac, and I need to talk." Methos nodded. Nadya watched as Methos gave her one last squeeze; then the younger woman looked up to Talia. Both knew they needed to talk but the time wasn't right.  
  
Talia paced around the workout room of the villa. A twisted swagger, ovid, around the bench where one immortal sat with slumped back. Duncan stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest, turning as Talia meandered about.  
  
"How could you?!" He finally exploded.  
  
Methos chuckled, bemused at the entire situation, only earning his own glare from the Scot.  
  
"It happens." Talia held out a hand, fingertips barely grazing the stones of the walls.  
  
"That's no excuse! You're immortal. You know how it is. How could you, you of all people, be so careless?"  
  
"And of course it has never happened to you before; no, probably not. You aren't the type." Methos laughed louder at that.  
  
"Type?!" MacLeod gaped.  
  
"Come on, MacLeod! She is more than capable of taking care of herself, it's not like she couldn't survive without it."  
  
"Methos. She lost her sword!" He enunciated each word.  
  
"Misplaced." Talia stated. "It is here...somewhere." She continued to pace.  
  
"Alright. Enough....you can talk and search at the same time." Duncan said. Then he asked Methos, "So what happened."  
  
"The long or the short version?"  
  
"The pertinent version." Talia said, pausing in front of a painting, regarding the piece of artwork before her. She smiled.  
  
Methos explained what happened. Duncan listened. Talia looked at the painting, her anger growing like the storm clouds painted over the ocean of canvas.  
  
"Then Piotr drove us back here and I found Ororo," he finished.  
  
Bobby and Rogue paused outside of the open doorway. They both had heard the ripping sound, though that was quickly replaced by the loud yell of Mr. MacLeod.  
  
"That was an original!"  
  
They crept closer to the door peering around to see what had happened. Both curious about the immortals they had just learned about. They saw Mr. MacLeod, Duncan as he wanted to be called, hands down at his side, mouth open in shock. The one who had attacked the mansion-Bobby was still fighting back some rage for what had happened-was holding his sides with both arms, face red with laughter.  
  
Rogue fought back some tears as the memories of the morning were conjured up at seeing the one called Talia, standing with her forearm through a painting on the wall, hence the ripping sound.  
  
"You assume that I should care." Talia said. Bobby noted the hard tone, and that the one called Methos had stopped laughing as she spoke.  
  
The rustling of fabric, and the two young mutants watched her draw out a long piece of metal. A sword. Talia continued as she pulled it from its hiding place.  
  
"They attacked my friends, took them, took _her_! In my home, while under my protection! I want them dead." She removed the blade and then turned.  
  
"Slowly." She did not look up; her eyes were on her weapon extended in front of her person. The other two were watching her....one with an expression of confusion, the other of sympathy. "I want him to see it coming, to feel it in his soul." Slowly, the blade came up, leading her eyes up with it, pulling them to focus.  
  
"I want him to die inside as much as possible before his head leaves his body. "  
  
Rogue knew the look in Talia's eyes; she had seen it in Logan's before. _'I can see why he likes you...'_ They listened to MacLeod begin to tear down what the woman had said, then Bobby touched her shoulder and they left.  
  
"So what? You will hunt him down......like-"  
  
"No," Talia cut him off. "He will come to me....to you." She looked to the older man.  
  
Methos sighed. "She's right, he won't give up. He will be back."  
  
"Ok! So we will wait for him to..."  
  
"No." Talia interrupted again.  
  
Duncan crossed his arms, vexed at the whole situation. "Then... what...do...you....suggest?" he growled.  
  
"I will..."  
  
"No." This time, it was Duncan who broke in.  
  
"Unless you really want him." This she asked Methos.  
  
He sat, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. He considered it a moment but finally shook his head 'no'.  
  
"So you're a coward then?" came a deep voice from the door. Logan entered the room followed by the Professor, who to his credit also spoke in warning.  
  
"Logan."  
  
"Can it, Professor! That's what he is."  
  
Suddenly, the sound of soft chuckling filled the room. Methos' shoulders were shaking slightly from it.  
  
"What would you prefer?" he asked, sitting up. Looking to the mutant. "A coward, a general, a husband, a master, a slave, a killer, a beast, a king? I have been everything, done everything. I am whatever the situation requires. And I do not care what you think about my actions either way. However, these-" Methos' hand encompassed the others in the room with them, "Think we should all be friends, peace and love, but none of the aphrodisiacs to facilitate it. So that," He then rose and walked over to the other man, "Leaves us two options."  
  
Logan had been silent though this and remained so, giving the other man a nod to continue when he caught Talia glaring at him.  
  
"Our respective peoples are more than willing for peace, but it is just the two of us who are causing the rift."  
  
Logan winced inwardly at this.  
  
"You and I can either come to terms, or I can leave."  
  
Logan started at this, not expecting it, not having a response.  
  
"Leave?!" MacLeod gawked.  
  
Methos did not look at him as he answered. "Yes. Leave. Play the coward. Disappear for, oh....how long for this to blow over? One, two hundred years. I'll wedge myself into some little hole somewhere, then come back when I won't be such at catalyst to everything. It wouldn't be the first time." He smiled bitterly as he said this.  
  
Logan just stared at the older man.  
  
"What of the other option?" Xavier asked.  
  
"That would depend on you...." Methos said to Logan. "...and what it will take to get this out of your system."  
  
Logan felt his claws itching, wanting to come out and bury themselves in flesh. He kept them in.  
  
"You will never understand.......even if you bother with that much." He remembered, even looking up to be sure Talia had not repeated what she had said before.  
  
_'Time to make a decision.'_ he thought _'An adult decision, a responsible one.'_ Could he trust him? No. Work on a team with this immortal? This creature? _'No more a creature than you are,'_ his conscience told him. He then cussed it out. But that did not make Methos an enemy, he had already proved that; Logan remembered when he had seen the patch on Ororo's shoulder, as Bobby had cleaned it later. Those were some good stitches. Professional. The guy did not have to do that.  
  
"I will never trust you." Logan broke the silence that had settled.  
  
Methos played the statue in turn.  
  
"But I won't try to kill you either...unless you give me a reason to."  
  
Methos took that in and nodded.  
  
"Permanently that is." Logan added as an afterthought.  
  
"You're welcome to try," the older man said.  
  
Then the tension seemed to leave the room and everyone relaxed. Duncan spoke up.  
  
"Professor Xavier, if you want we could meet in about an hour and try to conclude this summit." Duncan heard a laugh from the doorway, where Joe Dawson was standing.  
  
The Watcher spoke up. "It seems like it already has."  
  
Xavier smiled and nodded supplying, "Of course, we should work out some details but, yes, I do believe that we have passed the crest of the hill."  
  
"That only leaves our uninvited guest." Talia said, resting her weapon on her shoulder.  
  
"Talia..."  
  
"The summit is almost over, you all should be able to leave before sunset. You do not need to be in danger anymore that you already are."  
  
"I'm not leaving." Logan said.  
  
"You cannot fight our battles." Duncan told him. He knew Methos wanted to say it but was glad he hadn't challenged the other man; it wouldn't have been a wise move.  
  
"Really?"  
  
Duncan stood his ground. "One on one."  
  
"You gonna stop me, boy scout?"  
  
Talia sighed and then asked Methos, "Would you help me warm up some?"  
  
The older man nodded. "Let me get my sword." He walked off.  
  
"As for the rest of you...Duncan, you should go work things out with Xavier," Talia nodded to the older looking man, "And of course it should be recorded, though more openly than the last one." She looked to Joe.  
  
"It's no fun if they know you're watching." Joe smiled and then slowly stalked off ahead of Xavier.  
  
Talia smiled in turn then turned back to MacLeod. "You know what I am capable of. It's my home, my hospitality that was trashed by that arrogant child. He is mine."  
  
Duncan frowned but left the room.  
  
"As for you...."  
  
"Not leaving."  
  
Talia looked at Logan. Then, just as quickly, she swung her sword at him, aiming for his head! He ducked in time, only to have her foot connect with his chest. He went back, stumbling over the bench and hitting his head on the stone flooring. By the time he had cleared the stars from his eyes, the sword was at his neck, drawing across it. Not cutting the skin but so close to it.  
  
"If you were immortal, you would be dead. I am not doing this because this pup is a threat. He probably has no comparable skills with a sword. I am not doing this to protect you all. Duncan could do that. And, failing him, Methos would. And be careful there; he can play the coward, but only as it suits him. He fooled you there."  
  
Logan scowled at that.  
  
"So why don't you want me here then? Why do you want all of us gone?" he asked, catching her swallow, the narrowing of the eyes: repressed rage.  
  
"Because he has to die, because I do not even want to take the chance of anyone else getting hurt by him, and..." she hurried on, seeing him about to protest that he couldn't get hurt, "…and because I don't want to see the look on your face after I do kill him. On any of your faces."  
  
The blade relented. Logan stood up, placing his hand on hers. The claws inside wanted to come out, just like the blade she held in her hand.  
  
"I'm sor..."  
  
"No." He cut off her apology, drawing her close to him. She rested her head on his neck. His heart was racing, but whether from the activity or what she had said, he wasn't sure. The kiss on his neck did not help to clear the matter any, nor his attempt to sort out the answer. The ones that followed didn't help either, not that he cared.  
  
Piotr had been walking about the villa, not really searching for anything, but when he saw Nadya standing off to the side of a door in the villa he felt that he had found something that was lost.  
  
She did not hear him approach, and when he got there he saw what held her attention. Logan was standing with his arms wrapped around Talia, sharing a long kiss. Nadya looked away and turned to go when she saw him.  
  
Piotr reached out and grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. "Nadya, _pazhualsta_." He didn't know why he felt so comfortable speaking in Russian to her, but it only served to make her that much more special to him._  
_  
Nadya refused to look at him; it hurt too much. How could she tell him that she just couldn't do it? That she couldn't endanger him?  
  
Piotr reached out with his other hand and, cupping her chin, turned her face towards him gently. He ran his thumb over the small bruise on her cheekbone. "Nadya, when he hit you..."  
  
"No!" she yelled and pulled out of his arms! "I won't let it happen to you! I won't do it!" She stood back from him, her arms wrapped around her like a shield. Her eyes were liquidy and red, and her bit her bottom lip, one of her nervous gestures.  
  
Piotr's face was all confusion and pain but she wouldn't let it touch her.  
  
"Methos has died twice because of me! I won't let it happen to you! You won't come back, Piotr." Just then, her eyes looked beyond him and she quickly turned, hurrying out of the corridor. Going somewhere, anywhere.  
  
Piotr looked behind him, tears in his eyes, to see Logan and Talia. They'd heard the noise. Piotr silently retreated in the opposite direction. The Wolverine and the ancient looked at each other before each heading off after their respective comrades.  
  
................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos drew out the Ivanhoe from under his bed, listening to the shing! as the metal bed-frame touched steel blade.  
  
He wasn't really sure if he wanted to let Talia do this. What if Hayden challenged him first? Then she'd have no choice but to let him fight…but since when did Talia play by the rules of the Game?  
  
_'It's my fight to begin with. Well, technically anyway,'_ he thought, sitting on the bed. As he lifted the sword and looked at the blade, he remembered another sword flat...sliding over Nadya's throat. Heat stirred somewhere deep inside him. Was it anger? Or hatred maybe? Yes-and. He'd given his life to protect this child, but now he realized sharply that a 'normal' life was never possible for her. Not while her life was spent with them.  
  
Yet she chose to stay, even though she knew what their lives entailed. She had chosen.  
  
The scary thing was: this boy had Kronos' cruelty but he had also developed Methos' former calculating coldness, the knowledge of how to hurt your enemy. He knew that, in his most successful dreams, Hayden would keep Nadya like Methos had kept Cassandra, except he would share her out among his comrades after killing her. And there would be no ending it for her; he would kill her spirit, leave her a shell for eternity.  
  
Angered, Methos drove his sword into the floor! The marble tile chipped and cracked, splintered! The steel never gave way.  
  
................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Joe sighed as he thunked along beside Charles. "They are like children, aren't they?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, rather. They have their phases and lessons to be learned. Even after thousands of years, it would seem."  
  
Joe nodded. He liked Charles; he felt a sort of kindred affection for this man who also tried to protect and guide those he loved.  
  
"The young ones are having trouble," Charles spoke after a moment. He could feel pain and confusion radiating.  
  
"Piotr and Nadya?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I figured as much," Joe sighed, "That poor gal can't decide who her heart belongs to."  
  
Charles gave him a questioning look.  
  
"Oh, a part of her loves Methos, sure enough. But she'll never admit it to him; perhaps won't even admit it to herself." Joe leaned heavily on his cane.  
  
"What about Methos?"  
  
"That old man? Who knows? The last time he loved, it almost destroyed him. I don't know if he'd ever be willing to risk it to that extent again. The inside may be softer but his shell is hard."  
  
Charles nodded, noting his own experience with such kinds of people.  
  
"If Piotr really cares about her, right now he's going to have to hang on for dear life, 'cause it's going to be a bumpy ride for the time being." Joe shrugged his shoulders, and Charles nodded again. 


	18. 17

**Chapter 17**  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Nadya leaned her cheek against cool, smooth alabaster stone, her arm around Pallas Athena's shoulders.  
  
_'If there was a goddess of wisdom, I would be her most devoted adherent,'_ she thought. She had a good view of the entrance hall from atop the statue; she saw her long before she spoke.  
  
"You always hide in the same place," Talia paused at the bottom of the staircase.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Time passed. His spine had fused together again, but a broken neck was no fun to come back from. Hayden ran his hand over the back of his neck, down to his shoulder blades.  
  
"So I suppose this takes a more direct approach," he murmured.  
  
A man near him-the only one to survive Piotr's attack-handed him a dry shirt, which the blonde threw on, buttoning it up quickly. "Go to the villa, find the girl," he said. "And kill her."  
  
The man looked confused; the previous orders had been strictly against killing Nadya. "Hayden…"  
  
"Kid gloves are off!" Hayden snarled, whirling around on the man. "Normally, I would do this myself, but they would be too wise to my coming. If Methos wants to play like a Horseman, so be it. Makes it more fun anyway. Just make sure she's dead when you leave, and leave her body somewhere for them to find her."  
  
He moved to climb the stairs of the substation, but then stopped, smiling with his head raised. "Just don't make it too painful, Ger; it's only her first time. I want to do that after Methos is dead."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Your shoulder doesn't seem to be infected at all. The antibiotics are doing their job." Bobby said as he placed a clean gauze patch over the stitched wound.  
  
Ororo smiled weakly. Rogue sat with her arms around her knees watching as Bobby played medic. They had all had the basic first aid training and Ororo would go to a doctor once they got back. But she was doing fine at the moment; that was what mattered.  
  
"A most wonderful invention indeed," came a deeper voice from the doorway. Ororo smiled at Duncan as he entered the room.  
  
"Not that you would need them," she said. The younger mutants watched the interchange, still getting a handle on the immortals. Though MacLeod seemed less of a threat than any of the others. They both were still processing the conversation they had heard earlier-the casual discussion of the murder of another person. One of their own kind. For the purpose of a game?  
  
"I've had many friends that died far too young in life because they were born before such things as penicillin, or even the concept of 'sterile,'" he said softly. "Can I get you anything?" She shook her head slightly.  
  
"I'm fine. Well, I will be. Unless you have new shoulder somewhere. Or want to share your gifts..." she teased.  
  
This time, Duncan smiled but it was sad. "'No' on both counts. If I could, I would, that I promise you."  
  
She could tell she struck a nerve and let the subject drop. But not everyone caught that it was a touchy subject.  
  
"You can't share?" came Rogue's southern drawl.  
  
Duncan looked at her, shaking his head. "No, it doesn't work that way."  
  
"So you can't take anything either?"  
  
Duncan looked puzzled, so Rogue elaborated.  
  
"My...mutation...I draw the life-energy out of people. For mutants, that means their powers, too."  
  
Duncan nodded, understanding the gloves more so now.  
  
"We are born with our Immortality, and our first death activates it."  
  
"And you can't die...unless someone cuts off your head." Bobby finished.  
  
"That's the long and short of it, yes."  
  
"Why? Why kill each other? Why did those people come here and shoot Ororo?" Rogue's voice was laced with the stress of the situation.  
  
Duncan shook his head; the past few days were beginning to take its toll on him. As were all the questions about what the immortals were.  
  
"Rogue, why did Magneto take you?" Ororo saved Duncan the trouble of explaining it to her, though even Ororo did not understand the full scope of what immortality entailed.  
  
_'None of them do. What is that going to do to this peace once they do understand? It is tenuous enough as is.'_ Duncan noted that Rogue's expression became colder in addition to the confused look she had before.  
  
"Because he is a ....monster who did not care about who he hurt. So long as he got what he wanted." She clasped her hands in front of her legs.  
  
"Exactly." Ororo stated, looking to Duncan for conformation.  
  
The Scot nodded. It wasn't the best explanation for it but it was the truth in this case.  
  
.................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
"I like the view," came the reply from the top of the statue.  
  
Talia set her sword down at the base of it and climbed up to be able to talk face to face. Not that her friend was making a great effort on the part.  
  
"Do you want to talk or not?" she asked, brushing some of her black hair behind an ear with her free arm. The other tightly grasped the stone wing of the statue. When Nadya finally turned, Talia let out a low whistle.  
  
"Nice bruise."  
  
Nadya flinched at the memory that brought up. Talia patted her foot. "I'm...I don't know what to think or feel."  
  
"Decisions are hard like that. I say go for it. He's tall, handsome, killer accent."  
  
Nadya blushed but immediately shook her head. "He will get hurt...he isn't Immortal...and I...I can't."  
  
"Oh, and, suddenly, Immortals are the only guys you look for?" Talia drawled almost sarcastically.  
  
Nadya said nothing but only looked at her friend, tears shimmering. Something had struck a nerve; one Nadya would not admit to.  
  
"No...you have cried enough. No more from you; that is an order," the other woman said softly but devoid of emotion. "Now, perhaps you should go back to your safe little bubble where no one is ever in danger of death by car, by plane, by madman, or by fate-to say nothing of mortality-and find the perfect guy there."  
  
"How can you say that?!" Nadya yelled back, feeling the blow of the words.  
  
"Because it is true. And, regardless of whether or not you stay with us, you'll die some day; so will he, but your chances are no better apart than together."  
  
"It's just too much for me." Nadya shook her head, lowering it again.  
  
"Listen. Do you want to exist or do you want to _live_?" Talia asked. "You can leave. I would not fault you for that in any way, though I would miss you, but the one has nothing to do with the other."  
  
"People have gotten hurt because of me."  
  
"Nadya, dear, don't flatter yourself. That jerk was after Methos; he would have used whoever was here, had it not been you, and you know that. It is just the stress of the situation."  
  
Nadya tucked her knees up and placed her arm around them, leaning her chin on them. She had been up on this statue so many times that her balance had become nearly perfect. She still held onto Athena's spear, though.  
  
Talia sighed. "No one is making you decide now, Nadya. You have your entire life for the important decisions, but you have to realize the facts. Make your own decisions, but be aware of the truth."  
  
"What happens when he comes back?" Nadya's eyes stared straight ahead.  
  
"Then he will die."  
  
"Oh. But what if he...?"  
  
"Trust me."  
  
"OK. Will Methos...will he...?"  
  
"You don't want to know what is going to happen to him." Talia shook her head.  
  
Nadya nodded and leaned forward again, placing her head on her knees. Her tears still brimmed in her eyes but they didn't spill over.  
  
Talia pulled out a tissue and handed it to her.  
  
The comfortable silence lasted a while and, when it ended, it was Nadya who broke it.  
  
"So...how are things between you and, uh....Logan?"  
  
"Tasty." Talia said, licking her lips before dropping down and stalking off, smirking.  
  
Nadya's laughter echoed off the ceiling and down the halls, a sound long missed.  
  
..............................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos entered the large room that had served as the conference room for the past few days.  
  
Talia was examining the edge of her sword. Duncan was seated at the table with Joe and Professor Xavier. Ororo was lying on the couch with the younger mutants nearby. Logan was nowhere to be seen.  
  
_'Glad for that.'_  
  
Talia spotted him in the doorway, as did the others. She nodded before speaking,  
  
"I think it best that you all try to conclude this before nightfall, and if you cannot, then perhaps you should continue it from a safer place. I would guess a few hours at best before a second wave hits."  
  
"You are certain there is that much of a threat from this..."  
  
"Hayden," Methos supplied.  
  
Xavier took in the Ivanhoe broadsword resting on the man's shoulder. Like it had sprouted there. Like it belonged there, in his hand.  
  
_'Interesting'_  
  
"And, yes, he will be back; your lives are in danger here and you should get out as soon as possible," Methos said.  
  
"And leave you here to face him alone?" Charles looked to Methos but Talia interrupted.  
  
"No, he will be going with you. It's my house," she stated again, "My rules."  
  
"Woman's lib and all." Methos quipped.  
  
Talia cast him a puzzled look. "Woman's what?"  
  
"Never mind...forgot you were out of the loop for a moment there."  
  
"You are going to leave her here alone to deal with this other Immortal?" Ororo asked.  
  
"Yeah, it's not exactly fair, is it? But I don't pity the fool a bit; he has it coming and a lot more besides." Methos smiled ruefully. "MacLeod, play the diplomat. Talia, are we practicing or what?" he questioned and then left the room, fleeing the volley of questions he knew were coming.  
  
_'MacLeod wanted to play liaison so he can bloody well do that. I am done with explaining myself for the next century.'_  
  
Talia looked at the people in the room; most of them seemed concerned, 'Probably for me. I always wondered what that would feel like. Now I do.' She turned and followed Methos down to the practice room.  
  
Duncan, meanwhile, took up the task of explaining that...  
  
Yes. Talia was more than able to handle the immortal.  
  
Well, we fight one on one.  
  
Yes, she is going to kill him.  
  
Yes, that is murder, but it is part of the Game.  
  
Duncan hated the fact that the concept of killing someone, beheading them, took forever to sink into a person's brain. That was what immortals did, what they had lived with for centuries, was brutal and violent. But, finally, they grasped the situation, and the need to leave as soon as possible. Or so he hoped.  
  
...................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Nadya liked the gardens in the afternoon-time, even though the last time she had been there had not been pleasant. That didn't diminish her love for its beauty. As one who was neither Immortal, mutant, nor Watcher, she did not feel it was necessary for her to be at the conclusion of the summit, so she had taken to the gardens. The smaller one this time. The sun was running westward, the air warm.  
  
She was sweaty, her muscles twitching, for she had been working out. A medium-heavy staff was held in her hands; Duncan had been teaching her swordplay and the quarterstaff over the past few months, as a good workout for her. And he had longed to teach a dying art. So she was now getting out her emotion and frustration by practicing the stances for those weapons.  
  
The laughing earlier had done her good; her heart felt somewhat lighter. So, grabbing her staff and sword, she had headed for the garden. Running through stances again and again, she finally stopped, winded. Setting down the staff, she picked up the sword she had been practicing with, sitting on one of the benches.  
  
She just sat there, staring into the blade of the sword, letting her eyes cross and un-focus. Suddenly, she felt strange--as though she was not alone. Her eyes snapped into focus just in time to see a reflection in her blade!  
  
Leaping up, she moved just as a knife buried itself in the wood of the bench! Nadya whirled to find a stranger pulling the blade free! Nadya gripped the pommel of her sword, backing away but still standing her ground as she held the sword at point-in-line.  
  
"Come now, chickie. It won't hurt," he snarled, "Much."  
  
Nadya held fast. He rushed her, but she stood a credit to Duncan's teaching, moving with a side step and slashing the attacker's side with the tip of her blade.  
  
He roared in pain, holding the gash against his ribs. His eyes flashed as he glared at her, turning the dagger in his hand. "I was told to make it painless for you, but now I'm going to have some fun gutting you, you little witch!"  
  
The would-be assassin rushed her again, burying his shoulder in Nadya's stomach! She let out a cry, dropping her sword as the air was knocked from her lungs! He loomed over her, the knife poised to strike; her fingers crawled, clawed for her staff, which lay nearby.  
  
He smiled, the point of the knife aimed for her stomach. "This…is a wound."  
  
The knife came down!  
  
......................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Ororo looked up from where she was now able to sit up on the couch. "Where is Nadya? She wasn't here for the conversation."  
  
Xavier raised his head, his brows knit together in great concern. Pain, fear, anger. "Something is wrong...in the garden. Duncan, it's Nadya!"  
  
.............................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos continuously found himself impressed and outmatched by Talia, in sheer mechanics and technique. Granted, she had more experience, but he had the height and body strength to wield a heavier blade.  
  
He had shed his sweater on the bench, as the room was somewhat warm this afternoon, despite the marble.  
  
Talia watched the muscles in Methos' arms, shoulders, and back work as she challenged the old man. He had told the truth: just because he didn't like to fight, that didn't mean he couldn't. In some ways, he was much, much better than Duncan, in his knowledge and pure habit of the skill of swordplay.  
  
She saw him start towards her again, his weight began to shift to the left..._'uppercut...duck...deflect.'_  
  
Clank! The blades locked as she rose again, moving her weight back on her right leg about to strike out. The blades separated.  
  
Just then, footsteps came hurrying down the hall towards the room.  
  
"Hold," Talia said and Methos stayed his blade. He heard the feet then, running....and without immortal presence to boot.  
  
"Something is wrong," he said. Talia nodded.  
  
"Come on." She made it to the door when an out-of-breath Rogue got there.  
  
"In the garden!" The young mutant gasped for breath. "Hurry!"  
  
...........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
"Get off me!" Nadya gasped as his hand wrapped around her throat, holding her in place against the garden wall, in a secluded corner. The blood from his earlier wound stained her shirt and the top of her pants, running down her side.  
  
"No, you get ripped like a stuck pig. Hayden will never know the difference of how you died," her assassin growled, turning the knife to slash at her stomach again. She had cried out last time, not as loud as he wanted, but it had been a start. He wanted to hear her beg.  
  
Out of nowhere, there came a primal roar and, suddenly, Nadya's view of him was blocked by a huge form and there was a strained gurgling sound-the sound of pain.  
  
Logan!  
  
He had one set of claws buried in the man's right shoulder, their bloody tips sticking out of his back. But he had been careful not to kill him.  
  
"You picked the wrong day for this, bub," Logan growled, his other hand poised beneath the man's chin. The knife now lay in the grass.  
  
He glared at the mutant, fear glassing over his eyes. "Go ahead and kill me, it's no worse than what Hayden could do to me."  
  
"Oh, no. You're going to wish I killed you," Logan replied. He half-turned his head towards Nadya. "You OK, kid?" He could smell her blood. He'd been able to smell it and the scent of an intruder from the other side of the house where he had been searching for Piotr.  
  
Nadya sank down to her knees, still breathing heavily. "I'm...I'll be fine..." she murmured. "It's just a scratch." She leaned against the wall, feeling very Shakespearean, and began to tear her own shirt to press the graze, thankful that she was wearing a sports tank beneath.  
  
"Nadya!" Duncan hurried out into the gardens. "Where are you?"  
  
"Here!" Logan bellowed. He had the guy turned and anchored against the wall, holding him there until the others arrived. "I think you're gonna want to talk to this creep."  
  
"Talk...? Who said anything about talking?" Talia caught the Wolverine's words. Her eyes had found Nadya as soon as she rounded the corner. As had Methos, who rushed to her, the doctor in him rising to the surface twice in as many days.  
  
"She'll be ok...it's not fatal," he called out, knowing the others were worried. Methos placed a hand to her face, and she nodded. However, she was beginning to sweat and her eyes glaze over. He let out a held breath. He stood just in time to watch Talia punch the guy in the stomach and then hear Duncan complain about it.  
  
"Talia!"  
  
The ancient whirled around, casting her weapon down and to the side, and began to yell incoherent words at MacLeod and the others on the steps.  
  
Duncan looked to Methos, perhaps for a translation, but Methos just stared at her, dumbfounded.  
  
A moment later, she just stopped, blinked, and then ran a shaky hand through her hair before continuing...this time in English.  
  
"Twice. They have come into my home. Twice they have attacked my friends. Twice they have attacked those under my protection. Twice. " She held up as many fingers. "There will not be a third. There will not."  
  
"Yes, but we have to find out what he knows. Talia, you can't just kill someone in cold blood." Duncan entreated.  
  
"You would prefer I should torture him then? I could enjoy that."  
  
Logan saw a very familiar look cross her face as it looked back to the man he held in place with his claws and arms. Familiar in that he had seen it in the mirror, more than once. Then, to his surprise, he saw it again, only this time in Methos' face.  
  
"Where is he?" Methos voice was devoid of emotion or warmth.  
  
The man would have backed away but the pain in his shoulder prevented it; he was no doubt wondering if they could do no worse than Hayden would have.  
  
"That arrogant child who sent you here to kill my friend. Where...is...he?" Methos asked again, not getting an answer.  
  
"I'm dead either way!" the lackey said, staring defiantly.  
  
"He'll come to us, won't he?" Talia said. The wounded man looked at her. Hayden hadn't mentioned her. And when he did not answer, she smiled. She had her answer.  
  
"Yes....he will. He is bent on his goal."  
  
Charles watched the two immortals, having to shield himself from the hate coming from them. He also felt it radiate from MacLeod, who he stood near him. He had known they were violent, but he had never sensed the ruthlessness before. It left him feeling cold.  
  
"That is why he sent you." Methos finished her statement. His blood was racing at how close this Hayden had come--at how much he wanted to make this pitiful excuse for a human scream for almost hurting Nadya. He knew Talia wanted the same. But still...like MacLeod said: '…cold blood.'  
  
"Talia....he's right." Methos said softly, swallowing a few times.  
  
Logan started at that; he thought that he was going to have the guy ripped to shreds in another minute or so.  
  
"We can't just kill him like this."  
  
"Can't....won't....I could.....I'd enjoy it.....making you scream..." Talia reached out and wiped a droplet of sweat form the guy's forehead, flicking it from her finger disdainfully. "That's what you were going to do to her.....but you know what stops me.....? The fact that I would not be able to live with the look she would give me if I did. The look she would give me for killing her killer. How twisted is that?" She smiled. "Your master will be coming, and the first thing he finds will be you...." With that, she turned and walked away, catching Methos' eye as she did so.  
  
He nodded. "Will you bring him with you, and follow me?" he asked Logan, though Logan knew it was not so much a request. He had thrown himself into this so he might as well tolerate it and see it through. Besides, it was fun to hear the guy whimper when he walked.  
  
Talia walked over to Nadya, knelt down, and looked at the blood. "You made him work for it, didn't you?" She smiled at the younger woman who was working very hard to keep back the tears. Nadya tried to muster a smile but the stinging wound and shock setting in wouldn't let her just now.  
  
"Piotr, please take Nadya to Ororo. And if Bobby would be so kind as to get this cleaned up so Methos can stitch it up when he gets back, I am sure he would appreciate it."  
  
Piotr quickly complied.  
  
Talia gave her hand a squeeze then walked over to where Duncan was glaring at her. She merely looked at him and the Professor. "We are worse than beasts...when it suits us. I hope you never have to understand that," she told him quietly. "I believe you should pack up shop as soon as possible. Hayden will be coming, and I don't want anyone else getting hurt."  
  
.................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
The car door slammed and the engine revved before the screech of tires sounded off the walls of the submarine base. Hayden tossed the plastic earpiece onto the passenger seat. The wire he had built into the lackey's wristwatch had been insurance because you could never trust the hired help. It had paid off in so many more ways: he had heard Ger get captured, and knew his plan had failed; it was time for a hands-on approach.  
  
...................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Ororo sat up, her arm in a sling, as Piotr rushed into the room, carrying Nadya. "What happened?!"  
  
The Russian muttered something in his native tongue and then quickly switched. "The man who took them before sent someone to kill her, but Logan stopped him."  
  
Nadya winced as he set her down on the opposite couch. Piotr immediately felt himself close to being sick; as he pulled his hands away from her, they were covered in her blood. Bobby soon arrived with the first aid kit and, removing the bandage that Nadya had made with her shirt, he began to clean the wound, pouring peroxide onto it. Nadya grasped Piotr's arm as her body arched, a pained hiss drawn between her teeth. Methos had been right; it hadn't gone fatally deep but deep enough to need stitches.  
  
Rogue sat with Ororo while the young men worked.  
  
Finally, Bobby stood up and glanced at the new bruise on Nadya's right cheek, running up along her temple; he'd struck her with the back of his hand. "Here," Bobby said quietly and cupped his hands together. In a moment, he had a small compress made purely of ice. "That should help the swelling," he commented quietly, helping her hold the ice in her other hand.  
  
Nadya smiled vaguely at him and at Piotr. "Thank you," was all she said.  



	19. 18

**Chapter 18**  
  
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Professor Xavier sat on the patio leading down to the garden. The others had long vacated the area, taking their auras with them, and so he could breathe again.  
  
Yet, he found himself vastly confused and somewhat disturbed at the unpredictability of Immortals and the lengths to which they were willing to go. Even Duncan, who seemed the most pacifistic of them all, had plainly exuded hatred for the man who had attempted to kill Nadya. Even though Xavier knew why Duncan's emotions ran high when it came to the young woman, he still could not understand such violence and hatred. He was so far away from such feelings anymore; yes, he had dealt with them once and dealt with them still through people such as Logan and Eric Lencher, but it had been years, decades since he had come to terms with his situation in life, as a person and as a mutant. He did not hate those who attacked him, who attacked his children, and hurt all; he pitied them.  
  
_'Well, no one ever said the world was simple. "There is no black and white. We are but shadows and shades of grey," someone once said. But surely there is a line to be drawn?'_  
  
The air beginning to become cool, the Professor turned his chair around and headed indoors. He would look in on Ororo later; right now, he needed some coffee and some rest.  
  
...............................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
The would-be assassin fell to the ground, unable to support himself from loss of blood--both from the wound that Nadya had given him and from Logan's claws.  
  
Talia sat on a chair across from him, leaning on her sword. This room was located in what normally would have been a wine cellar, except Talia didn't care that much for wine and so had just left the room empty. Now it proved its usefulness, for no one could hear what was going on.  
  
Methos stood behind her, Logan off to the side.  
  
"Why kill her?" she asked. Short. Dead-panned.  
  
The suspect did not answer, barely even raised his head.  
  
Lifting her sword, before Methos could stop her, Talia flashed the tip over his cheek, slashing him!  
  
"I'll ask again: why kill her?" Talia's voice remained as before; she hadn't even risen from her seat.  
  
Methos felt something cold run through him, like steel.  
  
Blood running down his face, he raised his head. "To hurt _you_." His eyes locked on Methos; he knew he was dead anyway. "To make you suffer. And when you're dead, he'll take her, play with her Immortality, and, oh, won't she scream? Only wish I could be there to hear it."  
  
In a nanosecond, his jugular was sliced in two!  
  
"Talia!"  
  
But there was nothing to be done.  
  
"Go take care of Nadya."  
  
Methos didn't move.  
  
"Go!"  
  
Finally, he turned and obeyed. It was her house.  
  
.........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Rogue laid a towel, folded slim, over Nadya's chest to cover her; Methos couldn't work with the sport tank on, as the slash went up pretty high on her ribs, but Nadya declared that she wasn't going let some two-bit hit man take her dignity. And so she smiled at the young woman who helped her. "Thank you."  
  
Rogue sort of shrugged and nodded; she didn't really know what to say, though she knew what it was like to almost be killed, on several occasions.  
  
Methos then entered the room, his sleeves rolled up and his hands washed. He examined the wound, sitting next to the couch. Then he picked up a needle, which had been sitting in a candle flame. Threading it, he held it near the wound with pliers.  
  
Uncharacteristically, his hand rested gently on Nadya's head for a moment. "This is going to hurt," he told her. No reason to lie to the girl.  
  
Tears leapt into her eyes and streamed down her cheeks as he began to sew the wound closed. Nadya tried her best to not cry out, gripping the couch cushion with her other hand. Silence reigned in the room for a while and then, haltingly, she spoke when he paused.  
  
"Whe--when did you first…become a...a doctor?"  
  
Methos concentrated on what he was doing but answered after a while. "I don't remember. It's been so long."  
  
Silence again.  
  
Normally, Methos tried to not talk about the past to her; she usually got her stories from Joe. But she needed something to distract her.  
  
"You know…I knew a girl like you...long ago."  
  
Stitch number 12.  
  
"Her name was Christine, she was about your age. Very fiery, took care of others… She was a slave. I used to care for slaves, was the only doctor who would."  
  
Stitch number 22.  
  
"What happened to her?" Nadya's voice was weak, far away. Methos set another towel down by her side to catch the blood.  
  
He hesitated at her question, but then...  
  
"She died. She died because of me."  
  
Methos tied off the last stitch and cut the thread before placing a gauze bandage over the wound and taping it in place.  
  
"I promise you, Nadya. It won't happen again. I won't let you die…at least not by someone else's hand." Nadya remained silent. But he wondered: was he promising her or himself?  
  
Cleaning off her side and throwing the now red towels on the floor, Methos lifted her himself this time, wrapped in a blanket, and carried her to her bed. Piotr watched as they disappeared down the hall.  
  
Rogue rose from her place near Ororo and moved to join Bobby in the kitchen. Ororo, meanwhile, gestured for Piotr to come to her. "Are you okay, Peter?" she asked quietly. She didn't need to ask what was going on between him and Nadya; anyone could see.  
  
He shook his head. "She pushed me away…"  
  
Ororo pulled him down to sit next to her. "I'm sure she was just scared."  
  
"She said that she couldn't let me be hurt, that I could die because of her." Piotr shook his head again. "She doesn't understand that I don't care about that."  
  
"Peter, she's scared. We all are. Just give her some time." Ororo's hand rested on his shoulder. She loved him like an eldest son and wanted him to be happy. But such things were never easy.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
_'Who is she?'_ Hayden wondered as he listened to the interrogation going on between his minion and some woman. A woman with a growl lacing her voice. She was obviously incensed.  
  
But it wasn't Methos.  
  
Hayden was about five miles away from the villa, spread across the backseat of his car, waiting for night to fall. He was in no rush; allowing your anger to control you is your downfall, Kronos had taught him.  
  
So he would wait and bide his time.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Logan stood there where he had been at the beginning of the interrogation. He watched as the Immortals interrogated the guy, heard every word that the slime had said. Then he had watched Methos leave and Talia stand there for a good ten minutes, watching the blood pool at her feet.  
  
_'And, oh yeah, watched her off the guy. Can't forget that.'_ Part of him told himself that he shouldn't be so surprised, but he hadn't seen it coming. He also hadn't seen the bomb that the creep had dropped coming either.  
  
"You can quit watching him...I don't think he'll be gettin' up anytime soon," he said in half jest.  
  
"Some kill for pleasure and make it an art; some to further their own means and make it about tactics; others because they have to and it makes their nightmares," she said before dragging her gaze from the body.  
  
"Hey, he deserved it; no one will argue that one with you...." But his attempt to comfort her was shrugged off with a shake of the head, gesture of the hand.  
  
"It was an observation, not a declaration."  
  
"So which are you then?"  
  
"All of the above. Though this ....this I enjoyed....after the fact, for whatever that is worth." She chuckled, and then looked back up to him from across the body, daring him, willing him to ask.  
  
"He said that...is it true?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"She is one of you?"  
  
"Nadya, should she die a violent death, would become an Immortal."  
  
Logan nodded. "Why not tell her? It would make things simpler."  
  
"Nadya...Nadya is alive and vibrant. I see the joy of life when I look at her. Hope, promise, all that she should be with endless possibility. That I would have to see, " Talia glanced back down at the pool of blood, "…a reflection of myself there...a reflection of this there..." She shook her head as if to clear it from her mind.  
  
"Who says she has to end up like you?" Logan asked. "Not that I don't like who you are but..."  
  
"You don't know me..." She looked at him and then approached, pausing once the gap was closed. "You're attracted to me. It's mutual, but you don't know me.....that would take more time than you have....and, in the end, you probably wouldn't..."  
  
"Hey...no." He cut her off. "I'm no saint myself, Talia. I've killed; I've done a lot of stuff that would drive some folks mad...it almost does me."  
  
"You may live to eat that statement. Logan, you cannot tell anyone about Nadya," she commanded. Or was there a note of pleading in her voice?  
  
"OK."  
  
........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos met Xavier on his way back from putting Nadya down to rest. "You should all pack up and clear out....and…"  
  
"We'll take her with us. You don't even have to ask."  
  
Methos nodded. "Thank you."  
  
Xavier asked; it had been on his mind. "He is dead, isn't he?"  
  
"Yes. Before this night is over, I hope the other one to be rotting with him."  
  
"Why don't you let us help you? "  
  
"Don't tempt me...besides MacLeod is not about to attempt breaking the rules."  
  
"But you would. And I think Talia would."  
  
"Talia is an entirely different subject. And I...well, I want to live."  
  
......................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Talia and Logan had walked through the door. Rogue watched the older woman. Talia met her eyes a moment. Rogue could see she was beautiful.  
  
_'Can't fault him there,'_ she thought.  
  
Duncan got shot her a worried glance. Then his face distorted, angered. Rogue wondered why. Talia was not holding the sword she had before, and Rogue thought for a moment that it was probably with the other guy. She swallowed, when Talia's next statement confirmed as much.  
  
"You don't want to know."  
  
Duncan began to yell at her; Rogue caught the Scottish lilt to his voice. Then the woman stilled, like she had seen Logan do when he smelled something off. She caught the rapid eye movement.  
  
"They need to get out of here now."  
  
Duncan asked why.  
  
"Because he is coming."  
  
Then she took off, back out the door and down the hallway. Duncan froze a moment, muttered a curse in Gaelic, and then moved to scoop up Ororo.  
  
"Don't bother with the stuff you don't need!" he said to the others as he stood. He held Ororo, mindful of her shoulder. "Go let the others know that Hayden is almost here! Tell Methos to get Nadya!" He rushed to the side entrance to the villa, carrying Ororo.  
  
Bobby ran down the hallway, catching sight of the Professor and Methos at the end of it. He opened his mouth to yell to them the news but Methos caught the presence just as he opened his mouth.  
  
"He's here."  
  
"You're certain?"  
  
"I can feel him.....that means he is close."  
  
"Talia says that...." Bobby called out.  
  
"I know...Nadya!" Methos started to rush to her room.  
  
"No! Piotr is going to get her! Duncan has Ororo. He says to leave everything."  
  
Just then, an explosion rocked the side of the villa, knocking the men down!!  
  
Piotr had almost reached the top stair when the villa shook. He stumbled but grasped the rail and continued. He could see her room at the end of the hall.  
  
.....................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
"He took out the cars!" Duncan said as he looked out the windshield of the jet. The fireball rose up into the darkening night sky. Ororo had strapped herself into the seat.  
  
"You shut the door behind me!" he called back to her and then rushed back to the villa.  
  
..............................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Talia slammed the door to the refrigerator and then tore off a bit of her shirt. She pulled out the lighter she had lifted from Logan before she took off. "Thought I would need you."  
  
Then she heard the clank of metal on metal....and heard Nadya scream! 


	20. 19

**Chapter 19**  
  
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Bobby sat up and shook his head to clear it. The explosion had shaken the entire villa, the very ground beneath their feet! When he looked around, Methos was gone, but that didn't concern him at the moment.  
  
About a yard away lay Professor Xavier, his wheelchair overturned, his eyes closed. "Rogue!" Bobby screamed. "Rogue!"  
  
She suddenly appeared, running down the hallway towards them as Bobby struggled to lift the Professor's body. "We have to get him out of here."  
  
Bobby slung Xavier's right arm over his shoulders, the left over Rogue's and, together, the two young mutants lifted their mentor and hurried out to towards the clearing where the Blackbird sat waiting. They could see the flames beyond the windows, listening to the cars burn and crackle, gas tanks fueling the flames.  
  
........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Piotr felt his heart almost stop as he heard metal on metal! Suddenly, Methos staggered out into the hallway, drawing something from his shoulder, his Ivanhoe clutched in his other hand. He breathed for a moment, slumped. But then another voice cursed him and Methos blocked the on-coming strike, kicking Hayden back!  
  
Piotr armored himself and moved to help but Methos saw him.  
  
"No! Get Nadya out of here!" he ordered, turning just as Hayden furiously attacked again. The younger Immortal was rabid, out for blood.  
  
Without another thought, Piotr scaled down and ran for Nadya's room. He found her half in bed, half on the floor! The explosion had shaken her room and she had had tried to pull herself out of bed but to no avail.  
  
"He's here, isn't he?" she cried. He didn't answer. "Piotr, what's happening?!"  
  
"Come on!" Piotr quickly lifted her; he had no time to be ginger and tried to ignore the scream of pain that broke through her lips as his hand touched her side. Hurrying out into the hallway, he heard her shriek again.  
  
On the stairs, Hayden and Methos fought, blocking any means of escape. Piotr considered armoring and jumping down to the first level but he could not risk such a jar to Nadya's body as she clung to him. Methos suddenly cried out in pain as Hayden's blade ripped across his upper abs; then the Boy brought his blade down, locking Methos against the railing and pushing it closer and closer to his neck!  
  
"Methos!!" Nadya screamed as the two men went over the side of the railing, crashing down to the marble floor!  
  
Piotr gripped her tightly, moving down the staircase. Both men lay limply on the floor and, as much as he wanted to help Methos, the young Russian knew that he had to get Nadya out.  
  
"No! We can't leave him there! Methos! Methos!" Nadya's frantic screams echoed down the hallway as Piotr hurried to get her out of the house.  
  
The villa shook again as Duncan's Aston Martin blew up, adding to the huge fireball at the back of the house!!  
  
Methos groaned as he pushed himself up, the wound in his shoulder healed. Hayden was starting to come around, too, reaching for his sword.  
  
"You think you and that freakish excuse for a human will stop me, Methos? You're old, you've been running too long," the Boy sneered.  
  
Methos gripped his Ivanhoe, struggling to his feet, his stomach still partially bleeding. "I'll die before I let you take her; you should know that."  
  
Hayden grinned. "Well, you're only partially right." He stood there. "You should be thanking me, Methos. You haven't taught her; she's willful and unruly. But don't worry, I'll teach her everything she needs to know about obedience…and pain. I'll set you turning in your grave for all eternity and, once I have your Quickening, you'll see it all…through my eyes."  
  
With a roar, Methos attacked him again with every ounce of anger and hatred he could muster. He would end this last legacy of the Horsemen!  
  
......................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Piotr and Nadya had managed to get across the villa when a sudden explosion brought down the wall in front of them! Piotr was thrown back but his metal exoskeleton protected his back. His concern was focused on protecting Nadya, bracing his weight on his other hand with the other holding her back, raking against the floor as the blast threw him across it. Nadya cried out in pain and shock but stopped as soon as they stopped sliding across the floor.  
  
Piotr looked back to the rubble that made up what was once their exit to the Blackbird.  
  
"Well, that's out." Piotr felt more blood seeping through Nadya's bandage but her face, though frightened, was focused.  
  
"I have to get you out of here." He picked her up again and headed back the way they had come.  
  
............................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos saw the bright flash before he heard or felt the impact of the shot. He knew it had hit his liver.  
  
"You weren't expecting that, now were you?" Hayden asked, leering. His hand clenched the weapon in his hand and pulled off another shot to the lung.  
  
Methos staggered back. He registered an explosion further back behind him...somewhere.  
  
Talia rounded the corner. Piotr carried Nadya ..._'Coming back into the room. The explosion came from there,'_ she thought, but the earlier explosions had her more worried. The gun in Hayden's hand confirmed her fears. She lit the rag as Hayden looked up, catching the faint approach of Nadya's Quickening.  
  
Piotr saw Methos collapse and had to use most of his strength to keep the struggling Nadya from escaping his arms, the pain of her wounds forgotten the instant she saw Methos hit the floor.  
  
"No!!"  
  
Hayden had felt the youngling approach and he saw as quickly the tall silver..._'Is that armor?!'_...man holding her. _'Come to me, pretty.'_  
  
"I've never fought a man in armor before," he said as he made his way across the room towards them. "But they say there is a first time for everything." He pushed a stray lock of blonde and equally bloodied hair out of his face.  
  
"That includes disappointment...and, in your case, death," came a reply from the shadows. Piotr and Hayden both started.  
  
Then Hayden felt a presence envelope with a stabbing pain in his head. _'Immortal!'_ his senses told him this but not why they hadn't informed him earlier. He tasted blood and realized his nose was bleeding.  
  
"She is mine!" he bellowed, enraged.  
  
Piotr saw Hayden rush at him and Nadya and then he felt the flash of heat as a bottle of flame exploded a few feet in front of him, cutting the man off!  
  
"Doubtful." Talia said and then yelled at Piotr. "Get her out of here!"  
  
Piotr quickly complied, hoping to find a wall that wasn't load bearing to create a doorway.  
  
The young one was yelling again, Talia noted. Methos. _'Ehhh, dead...so he is out of the picture for a few minutes....I really don't want to clean up this mess,'_ she thought as she watched the young one turn. For a moment, she thought he was going to rush her but saw him move toward Methos instead. _'Didn't see that one coming.'_  
  
She kicked herself. Hayden reached the dead man before Talia could stop him.  
  
.........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
"Nadya!" Duncan reached for her as Piotr ran through the atrium. He could see the blood soaking through the bandage where her stitches had pulled and she was almost biting her bottom lip in two.  
  
"Methos...we have to...we can't leave him here!" she murmured weakly as Piotr passed her into Duncan's arms.  
  
"I'm going to help him!" the Russian said as his armor scaled over again.  
  
"No! It has to be a fair fight."  
  
"FAIR?! You call this fair?!" Piotr cried furiously, indicating to the burning cars and Nadya's body. "He tried to kill her, he's tried to kill us all!"  
  
Duncan's brows knit seriously. "Methos can handle himself; he's been through worse." With that, he turned and headed through the garden towards the back wall entrance. Nadya was still crying for Methos.  
  
.....................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Logan grabbed up the Professor as the kids brought him to the Blackbird. "What happened?!"  
  
"The explosion, I think it knocked him out when he fell out of his chair!" Bobby gasped, collapsing into a seat and starting to strap himself in.  
  
Logan quickly felt for a pulse. The Professor was alive. "I think he's going to be OK. Storm, can you get us out of here?!"  
  
"As soon as we have the others!" Ororo used her good hand to push the buttons, entering the lift-off sequence in the jet's computer, initiating the autopilot. She could see Duncan, Nadya, and Piotr heading for the Blackbird at that moment.  
  
"You'll be all right, Chuck." As he strapped the professor into his chair, Logan tried to ignore the nagging in the back of his brain. _'Talia...You would leave her to die?'_  
  
_'No!'_ his brain screamed back. _'She can handle; I'll see her again. I'll see her again!'_  
  
....................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Duncan deposited Nadya back into Piotr's arms and then made it back into the house in time to see the stand-off between the two Immortals.  
  
"So kill him." Talia taunted. "It will be a lot easier just to execute you anyway while you are down."  
  
Hayden felt MacLeod approach and turned to levy the same threat to him. "Come any closer and I end him," the blonde man said, grasping the steel blade poised over the still form's neck with both hands.  
  
MacLeod stopped, looked at Talia to see what she was thinking.  
  
"The villa is burning up," she said, looking to where the flames were moving down the hallway.  
  
"Apparently." Duncan replied. "And my room was in that wing," the highlander said in his best put-off tone....18th century French royal court tone, to be precise.  
  
"Your luggage still there?" Talia had lowered her weapon and was using it to lean on.  
  
"Favorite sweater."  
  
"Ohhh, the white one...with the pattern?"  
  
Duncan nodded. "What should we do about this?" He gestured to Hayden and the soon-to-be revived Methos, judging on the Quickening's energy dancing across the bullet holes. Then the gasp of air.  
Methos locked eyes with the man standing over him.  
Hayden pulled the blade back to strike, but Methos rolled out of the path of the weapon. Hayden realized he missed, both the strike and his chance, and turned to run.  
  
Talia gave chase.  
  
....................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Logan's head jerked up as Piotr rushed across the lawn. He smelled blood coming from the young man and soon saw that Nadya was the cause of it.  
  
"Some of her stitches burst," he said as the Russian sat her down in a chair, only to hear her gasp in pain as she tried to stand.  
  
"Nadya, you can't go back there!" Piotr insisted loudly.  
  
Logan saw the look on her face at that. "I don't want him to die....I don't care if they have to do this....I don't want him to die."  
  
"I'll go!" Logan said. _'Yeah, but you know the real reason you wanna go back there.'_ He thought to himself as he rushed from the plane. _'Hey, it's ok if I go back and help both of 'em,'_ he reasoned.  
  
....................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Talia hadn't followed Hayden very long when she heard a sound...not the feet of the others trailing behind her...footfalls sound different. Then she saw a small black object rolling toward her. The last thing she heard was MacLeod scream.  
  
Duncan saw the grenade. Tried to warn her. Failed. The ensuing blast crumbled another wall, and most of Talia's bones. Duncan saw the mangled body, parts still on fire, and swiftly moved to put them out.  
  
Methos yelled at him as he rushed past. "I'm not letting him get away!"  
  
Duncan would have acknowledged that but he was too preoccupied.  
  
Logan heard the blast, and heard the sound of running feet, coupled with the scent of fear. _'Heading my way.'_ He crouched and prepared to spring out of the shadows.  
  
.....................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Hayden was running for his life, and he knew it. Caught up in his escape he almost didn't see the other man. Thankfully, instinct is a blessed thing. Hayden reacted, dropping low as the man slashed for his head with some short knives, his own weapon cutting a deep gash into the attacker's stomach. He did not even slow his pace. That one was dead--since Hayden had not been able to sense him. The large garden was on this side of the villa.  
  
_'You can lose yourself in the woods beyond that.'_  
  
...................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos saw Logan take the hit and stumble, hand clutching his stomach. _'Gut wounds...lots of fun.'_ He could also tell that the other was not out for the count, but he did not want to lose Hayden. He rushed by Logan calling out as he ran.  
  
"I've got him! You help MacLeod with Talia." Pointed with hand, "Back there!"  
  
Logan grunted. _'Help him with Talia?!!!'_ Logan suddenly wished he could heal faster.  
  
Duncan finally put out the last flame on Talia's leg. He looked away for a moment; the smell of burnt flesh made him want to retch. Her entire face was charred--a bloody, black mess--as were her arms, one beyond recognition as a human body part. Most of her clothes were ashes, her hair almost all gone. At least the blast hadn't blown her head from her body. But there wasn't much left...for now. This would take at least the rest of the night and on into the next day to heal. If she were fortunate, she wouldn't scar. Even Immortals have certain limits as to what they can regenerate.  
  
Mac could feel the heat of the fire as it began to spread into the entrance hall. Grasping a still intact curtain, he yanked it down and used it to wrap Talia's body. Then, he lifted her as gently as he could. If only he'd shouted sooner.  
  
Logan could smell it, even before he rounded the corner to find MacLeod lifting a something covered and tied with a sheet. Under the sickening charred smell, the searing flesh, he could smell….vanilla.  
  
"No," the word stuck in his throat, coming out only as a garbled choke. Not since he had lost Jean had he felt this cold. This complete and utter emptiness. He felt like a husk where everything else--everything that had only recently grown back, if not healed-had been burned away and all that was left was the shell. All of this he felt in a few seconds.  
  
Mac saw his face. "You don't want to see her. Not yet." He saw the gash in Logan's stomach, the blood streaming between his fingers.  
  
"Come on." With that, Duncan hurried down the hallway for the exit that Piotr had made.  
  
"But what about...?"  
  
"Leave him to Methos!" Duncan replied as flames began to engulf the entrance hall.  
  
Just before he stepped through the wall, Logan turned to see Pallas Athena standing tall amidst the flames that threatened to tear her down.  
  
"Goddess of war, right?" the Wolverine murmured.  
  
She just stood there, the flames blackening her once perfect alabaster body, the shoulders and wings where Nadya had so often sought refuge.  
  
"Yer certainly in the right place, lady." With that, Logan quickly followed Duncan. 


	21. 20

**Chapter 20 -- Final Chapter of Volume I**  
  
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Ororo saw them and lowered the ramp to the Blackbird, letting them in. "What happened, Duncan?!" she demanded.  
  
At the sound of his name, Nadya turned to see the white cloth that Duncan carried; not only that, but the charred arm that hung beneath its hem.  
  
"Oh, my...!" She suddenly became hysterical, tears running down her cheeks, screams of absolute panic issuing from her throat. Piotr was hard put to hold her where she was.  
  
"Nadya, stop! You'll only hurt yourself even more!"  
  
"I don't care, don't you get it?! I don't bloody care! Just kill me now! Please!" The hysterics continued.  
  
Finally, Bobby appeared at the side of her chair, plunging a syringe into her arm. She quieted down almost instantly.  
  
Logan and Piotr looked at him with shocked regard.  
  
"Just enough to keep her quiet for now; she's hurting those stitches and losing blood. She'll go into shock if we're not careful," he explained.  
  
"Sounds lahke she's already theyah," Rogue murmured, bending over the Professor who was beginning to wake.  
  
"Rogue...so much fear...what's happening?" Xavier spoke quietly as he began to come around, squeezing his eyes closed at the ache in his head as he struggled to bring himself to consciousness and his power under control.  
  
"The villa's burning...you were knocked out, sir." Bobby replied, coming to their side. "He--Methos is fighting Hayden…alone."  
  
Professor Xavier sat up all the way and sighed. _'He's not such a coward after all.'_  
  
Nadya's head lolled back against her chair, tears still rolling down her face and her lips moving, though nothing came out.  
  
_'It is like watching Jason Stryker all over again,'_ Storm thought as she gestured for Logan to come to her. "Are you OK?"  
  
He grunted as he took the co-pilot seat, retracting his claws. "I will be." He wiped his hands on his jeans.  
  
"Good, because I need your hands to fly this thing." Storm remarked as the thrusters roared to life.  
  
Logan took control and lifted the Blackbird off the ground.  
  
"Can't...can't leave him..."  
  
Piotr hung his head, almost in tears himself as the words dropped from Nadya's lips, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as they pulled over the fiery chaos that had used to be Talia's beautiful home.  
  
Logan's sharp ears could catch the frantic whinnying of horses in the stables below them. The fire had not spread there yet but he knew that, with a stiff wind, those horses-especially Nadya's-were doomed.  
  
" 'Ro, this may sound really stupid at a time like this but..."  
  
"But what, Logan?"  
  
"Do you have enough strength for one lightening bolt?" he questioned hesitantly.  
  
Storm regarded him. "I might."  
  
Logan swallowed. It sounded so stupid, but the poor kid might lose enough today without losing her horse, too. "Do you think you can open the doors of the stable?"  
  
Now she was dumbfounded. But when Logan looked at her, Storm understood. The Wolverine had a good heart under all the adamantium.  
  
"I shall try." With that, she concentrated. The ice-blue of her eyes became pure white, like an overcast sky. It never ceased to freak Logan out.  
  
The sky grew black, the clouds tumbling together, rolling over each other and growling.  
  
"Storm, what are you doing?!" Rogue cried.  
  
But the weather witch didn't answer, only concentrated harder. Suddenly, a slender fork of lightening surged out of the sky, striking the doors of the stable and blowing them right off their hinges! The horses streamed out over the hill and through the countryside, with a bright figure at the head.  
  
Shadowfax.  
  
Duncan, having laid Talia down, moved forward to look out the windshield of the jet. Then he turned to Storm.  
  
"Thank you. She'll appreciate it."  
  
Exhausted, Storm shook her head. "Do not thank me, Duncan." She gestured to Logan with her head.  
  
Him? Duncan hesitated a moment and then placed a hand on the mutant's shoulder. "Thanks, Logan." Then he moved over to where Nadya sat. "Bairne, your horse is safe. Logan and Ororo saw to it," he whispered to the half-conscious girl as the jet rose further into the sky.  
  
Just then, two Quickenings rushed over him.  
  
They were below, in the garden. Where this had all started.  
  
..........................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos watched Hayden vault over the railing and down into the open garden, forgoing the steps ahead. He followed suit. The crunch of the mulch lining the flower bed barely registered to his ears.  
  
_'Can't let him reach the woods.'_  
  
Humans have to condition their bodies to best perform the necessary tasks for their particular field of interest. A runner builds the muscles and lung capacity to excel in that task. A swimmer likewise. A basketball player. So on and so forth. Human beings condition to perform at their best to win. Immortals are no different. Except a lot more is at stake if one should lose. Naturally, it follows that the muscles of the arm would be developed the most.Yet, it also pays to be able to outrun one's enemy if they are too strong. Methos preferred to avoid fights, so he also trained his body to be able to flee faster than his opponent would be able to pursue.  
  
Or if he really wanted to catch the other....  
  
Hayden felt the blade slice through his back twenty yards from the woods he had been focused on reaching. The searing pain was negated as he swung around to block the blow which followed through. Upper left to lower right. The Ivanhoe's weight clashing with his own blade jarred his arm.  
  
...................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
The Blackbird was hovering when Storm looked up and saw Methos catch up to Hayden. She alerted the others.  
  
"They are to close together to try to electrocute the other." Storm stated.  
  
"You up to messing with his brain, Chuck?" Logan asked the Professor. Xavier opened his mouth but MacLeod cut him off.  
  
"It is one on one. To the death." He ran his hand over Nadya's hair where she had finally fallen asleep, the stress and the medication finally pulling her under.  
  
"What if he loses?" Storm asked. Duncan smirked.  
  
"He won't."  
  
"Yer sure of that?" Logan scoffed.  
  
"He's survived 5,000 years, and far worse situations than I've had nightmares. He can take a child like Hayden, given a fair fight."  
  
"You all do this? Kill each other? Over and over," the Professor said. Though it was not really a question, the highlander answered.  
  
"In the end, there can be only one."  
  
..................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Hayden blocked the blow coming at his stomach-brought the blade around and down trying to make contact with flesh. Draw blood. Live. It wasn't working.  
  
Methos had a feral grin on his face. He continued to beat the man back. Talia had wanted him to suffer. Make him regret what he had done. Inspire terror. He could have done that. He wanted to do that, but it is also wise not to push one's luck. Besides, he did not want to revert back to past ways; this whole ordeal had drug up far too much of the past as it was.  
  
_'Time to kill off one more memory.'_ He blocked the jab that was out to connect with his liver. Then he threw himself down in a roll as Hayden brought his blade around for another cut.  
  
Logan watched as the two men tried to kill each other. It was...enthralling to say the least. He kept his opinion to himself, though; few people appreciate a good fight.  
  
_'Especially between guys that know what they are doing.'_ He watched Methos duck and appear to fall forward. _'One more than the other though...Ouch!'_ Logan grimaced as he watched Hayden fall.  
  
Hayden had tried to impale Methos but that was blocked so he brought the blade around again. Only Methos was not there. The sudden blinding pain by his ankle and radiating up his calf alerted him to where the ancient horseman had gone. He was unable to stop himself from crumpling to the ground without his Achilles tendon to anchor him.  
  
.........................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
"Can we get closer?" Logan asked Storm, who cast him a disgusted look. He shrugged.  
  
"No, stay away from them." Duncan said hurriedly, even though Storm had no intention to indulging Logan's second request.  
  
"Why?" He asked.  
  
"Trust me."  
  
.............................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos brought the blade down on Hayden's wrist. His sword fell to the ground, hand still clutching the hilt. The felled man would have screamed but Methos' blade had found his lungs through the ribs of his chest. He instead made bubbling sounds, blood filling his mouth.  
  
"See what happens when you can't let go of the past......it makes you wish you had!"  
  
The sword pulled free and cut down. Hayden's head rolled and smacked up against one of the flower pots.  
  
Storm clenched her eyes shut at the sight of the rolling head; Xavier flinched; Logan gave a silent cheer and MacLeod a sigh of relief.  
  
"It's over." Storm breathed out.  
  
"Almost." Duncan stood. "Back the jet up some. Don't ask me why, just do it." He wearily cut off Ororo's question, and she had Logan comply, scowling.  
  
The Blackbird was moved off another 100 yards, but Logan, under Storm's direction, brought it up so as to see what Duncan was looking out of the window so intently for. Charles was the first to notice anything, even before there was really anything to notice, at least where sight was concerned.  
  
"I've never seen....." He leaned forward and stared, mouth slightly open in awe.  
  
Logan looked at the Professor then back to the figures, now smaller, in the garden. A strange mist had formed about them and was readily being absorbed into the victor.  
  
"So what is....." The first flash of the Quickening cut him off!  
  
"Storm??!" he exclaimed, flinching.  
  
"It's not me....it's not...not lightning...I don't..."  
  
"Quickening." MacLeod breathed out. The others heard but did not respond. They just watched in stunned silence as Methos was thrown about like a ragdoll by the force of the lightening.  
  
A few stray tendrils of the Quickening struck the villa, flames already spread through it. They struck the gas line. The shockwave from the explosion caused the Blackbird to shift to the left.  
  
"That's why I said to get back." Duncan would have smiled had he not been so tired.  
  
.................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
Methos hated this part, hated the stiff muscles after it was done. He also hated the memories and visions that weren't his.  
  
Hayden's mere 200-year-old Quickening wound its way into his subconscious; he saw everything the younger Immortal had seen and done. He saw Kronos and those feral eyes, the brutal teachings; he saw Hayden's imagination, his fantasies of killing Methos and taking Nadya for himself. He saw all the ways the Boy had planned to kill and torture her, make her suffer her Immortality.  
  
Methos' teeth clenched, his grip on the Ivanhoe tightening as bolts of Quickening sparked and exploded all around him, lighting the once beautiful gardens on fire, as though to purge them from all that had happened, from the blood that had been spilt.  
  
Finally, it was over and Hayden had disappeared forever. Methos sank to one knee, his sword thrust into the ground, and panted.  
  
"I kept...I kept my promise," he murmured.  
  
_'So dies the last legacy of the Horsemen.'_  
  
Xavier sat aboard the Blackbird and just watched. He saw Methos sink to the ground, the flames all around him as the Quickening faded away.  
  
"Take her down, Logan," he said quietly.  
  
_'So this is what started it all? This is what I saw in Cerebro? Remarkable. Terrible...but remarkable.'_  
  
Logan directed the Blackbird back to the clearing, a bit further back than before, lowering the ramp so that Methos could enter.  
  
The ancient staggered up the ramp, MacLeod meeting him the last third of the way and helping him up into the jet. "Where's Talia?" Methos groaned, glancing at the Highlander.  
  
Duncan looked up with his eyes, indicating that Talia was behind the old man. Methos turned to find the curtain-wrapped body sitting in the back of the jet. He staggered over to her, sighing. He'd been burned at the stake before, as he said; he knew what a pain this healing process was to be.  
  
Still....  
  
Leaning down, he whispered. "He's dead." Methos knew that somewhere, in that holding place that Immortals called death (the non-permanent kind), she could hear him. He could even imagine her smiling. Then the old man looked at MacLeod, then Nadya.  
  
"Don't let the child see her. It wouldn't do her any good."  
  
Duncan nodded, walking over to where the man sprawled, exhausted. "She's been crying for you, Methos. She's cried this whole time. Bobby finally had to give her a sedative."  
  
Methos didn't answer, just sort of looked away. This was the first time in a long time that he had fought for someone else and not just for himself. It was then that he realized how much she had come to mean...how much they all had come to mean to him. How much they were family.  
  
"And life goes on, three species strong," a voice came from the other side of the jet.  
  
Joe smiled and leaned back against the wall. Everyone had all but forgotten him as he'd sat there through it all. It was the mark of a seasoned Watcher: able to be forgotten while in plain sight.  
  
Mac just shook his head at his friend.  
  
Xavier smiled quietly. "Back to New York, please, Logan."  
  
**End of Volume I**


End file.
